


Entrapped

by Cavik



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Magic, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2021-04-15
Packaged: 2021-04-18 08:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 197,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21795646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cavik/pseuds/Cavik
Summary: It starts with you walking down the stairs. One second later, you're tossed into Fódlan, taken to Garreg Mach Monastery and forced to watch out for both the Church's officials and the various factions plotting against it. And also not let your accent betray your identity. This is the reality I live in now. And I have to find a way back before I'm dragged into the incoming war.
Comments: 22
Kudos: 104





	1. Chapter 1-Away from Home

This shouldn’t have happened. It should have been a regular day for me.

I had just gotten out of my apartment, ready to get to university. The elevator was already taken, so I decided to take the stairs. All in all, nothing out of the ordinary.

Except I tripped like an idiot and fell down.

I’m not sure what happened afterwards, but now my body is feeling stiff and everything around me is dark.

“I’m telling you Alois, we’ve gotta do something!”

Oh, and I’m hearing voices now. Lovely.

“Right, uh...what do we do?”

Curious as to who is speaking, I open my eyes and am met by what I can only describe as a pair of weirdos.

One is a woman that had to be around my age, with blonde hair partially kept in a ponytail, blue eyes, and tanned skin. The other is kneeling beside me and I can see he is an older man, possibly in his forties, with brownish hair, water green eyes and a funny mustache.

Nothing weird there, except they are both wearing a set of medieval-looking white armor.

And strangely, they seem familiar.

“Hey, he’s awake!” the woman says.

“Ah, greetings, sir!” the man tells me, more loudly than necessary, a broad smile forming on his face.

“Uh…” I hesitate a moment, not sure what to make of these two “Hi?”

“You alright there, buddy?” the woman chimes in, “A field isn’t the most comfortable of places to sleep in, you know?”

“Field? What…?”

My words die in my throat as I take a look at my surroundings. I’m laying on a field of grass, trees and the clear blue sky the only things visible nearby. This could be anywhere, but it’s definitely nowhere near where I live.

“Dove…” I say, a wave of agitation coming over me “Dove sono?”

“What?”

So these two can’t understand italian at all. Really off to a good start.

“Sorry. I said ‘Where am I?’”

The two look at me like I’ve grown a second head.

“You...don’t know where you are?” the woman asks me.

“De last ding I remember is falling down de stairs and den I woke up here with you two.”

The two keep looking at me weirdly.

“Do you understand what I'm saying?” I try asking them, “Is my English clear enough?”

“Ah, sorry,” the man intervenes “We do understand you. Though I don’t know what an ‘ing leash’ is.”

How does he  _ not _ know what it is? He’s speaking it right now!

“Maybe we should start this over,” the woman interrupts, offering her hand to me, “First of all, let’s get you up. I doubt that position is comfortable.”

I take her hand and prepare to pull myself up. But to my surprise, the blonde manages to effortlessly lift me up all by herself. She must be pretty strong to pull that off.

As soon as I get on my feet, I have a better look at the two of them.

The man’s armor has an exaggeratedly huge pauldron on his left shoulder and a cape coming down from his shoulders.

The woman’s armor is less over the top, except for a skirt-thingy covering the right part of her lower body. Oh, and also some kind of branched sword resting at her hip.

Assuming this isn’t what they wear everyday, their outfits seem too silly to be proper medieval armor. A pair of cosplayers for an anime convention, perhaps?

“Tank you, miss,” I tell the woman.

“Don’t mention it,” she says jovially, “The name’s Catherine, by the way. No need for that whole ‘miss’ stuff.”

Catherine?

“And I’m Alois Rangeld!” the man, who has also rose up, bombastically declares “We’re both Knights of Seiros!”

Alois? Knight of Seiros?

Wait a moment...I know those names. They’re characters and an organization from a videogame. A japanese videogame with anime influences. Two people cosplaying as characters from that game would make sense for an anime convention. But if these two  _ actually _ claim to be them…

I take a quick glance at their armors and notice they do have a badge with the Crest of Seiros on their collars, just like in their game. Their faces do look somewhat like those characters’ and they are both also taller than me, like their in-game counterparts. And Catherine’s sword - Thunderbrand, right? -  _ was _ a branched sword.

Either they are damn good cosplayers, or I hit my head too hard and am hallucinating. Or this  _ is _ that game and I’m fucked.

Nononono, bad train of thought. This is real life, not one of those self-insert fics.

“Hey, you still in there, buddy?” ‘Catherine’s’ words snap me back to reality.

“Sorry, sorry,” I say hastily, “What were you saying?”

“I asked what your name is.”

I notice her right hand is resting on her hip. Very close to the hilt of the ‘sword’.

She’s  _ that _ kind of cosplayer, uh?

“Sorry. My name is Eugenio. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, Mister Eugenio,” ‘Alois’ declares in his characteristically bombastic way. This cosplayer is really nailing that side of him.

“So,” ‘Catherine’ chimes in, her hand still close to the ‘sword’, “What was that bit about falling down the stairs?”

Oh right, I didn’t explain that.

“I stumbled on de stairs in my house while I was going down,” I explain to the two, “I fell and next ding I know, I’m here.”

“Ouch,” ‘Alois’ comments “One of my fellows once had a similar incident. Got some pretty bad bruises afterwards. I guess you could say he had a...” oh no, please, don’t tell me he’s going to “ _ Fall _ from grace, ahahahah!”

Goddammit cosplayer, did you  _ really _ have to nail that as well?

“Well, I think I can fill a bit of that gap,” ‘Catherine’ says, her hand coming away from her hip “Alois and I were passing by here when you literally appeared out of thin air.”

Out of thin…? Ok, no, think! That’s not something that can actually happen. She must have seen wrong.

“How would I even…?”

“No idea,” ‘Catherine’ shrugs “Maybe some spell gone wrong sent you here?”

Did she just say ‘spell’? Why would that be the first thing that comes to her mind?

“Also,” her hand goes back to her hip, “What’s with your outfit?

“Uh…” I look down at myself but fail to notice anything out of the ordinary “Noting? It’s a simple hoodie.”

“I don’t think so,” ‘Catherine’ replies, her brow furrowing and her hand coming closer to the sword’s hilt “It doesn’t look like any from here in Fódlan.”

Oh, good lord, must she really overplay her…?

I widen my eyes when I see a slight glow coming from a pommel in her sword’s hilt. Or rather, from a small orb inside that pommel. An orb with a symbol that reminds me of the Crest of Charon.

“I suppose if you’re foreign it might…”

“Wait,” I interrupt her, a terrible thought coming to my mind, “Dis is  _ really _ Fódlan? You’re actually Knights of Seiros?”

“Well, duh!” she answers while knocking on her chestplate, which makes an eerily metallic sound, “Why would you think…?”

Whatever she says next, I don’t hear. My whole body freezes and I’m pretty sure my eyes widen even more at the horror of the realization.

Jesus frigging Christ! This  _ is _ one of those self-insert stories! I’ve been taken to Fire Fucking Emblem Three Motherfucking Houses!

What the shit am I supposed to do now? I’m not a fighter! I don’t know crap about combat!

“Oi, you still in there?”

What am I even supposed to tell everyone? They’ll laugh and call me crazy if I tell them the truth! What can I even invent with what I’ve already said?

“Hey?”

And why did it have to be Three Houses? Couldn’t it be Awakening like everyone else? Hell, why Fire Emblem in the first place? Couldn’t it be something harmless like Pókemon?

“Hey!”

And what about my family back on Earth? Are they going to think I’ve disappeared? Been kidnapped?

...or is this one of those cases where I die and then go to another world? Is that what happened? Are they going to find my lifeless body in the…?

“HEY!”

I’m literally shaken out of my thoughts by two strong hands on my shoulders. I blink several times and I notice my breathing has quickened.

“Steady breaths!” Catherine says, her tone taking a commanding note and her face matching it.

I follow her command, slowing down my breathing until it’s at an acceptable pace.

“Now,” the blonde Knight takes her hands off of me, although they thankfully don’t go back to her hips, “I’m gonna ask you some questions. You give me simple answers, alright?”

I nod.

“Where are you from?”

“...Italy,” I answer, hesitating only for a moment “It’s...a land far far away from Fódlan.”

“Good, good,” she replies, apparently unfazed by the name “And do you know where exactly it is?”

“...no. Fódlan is only known through stories,” a partial lie, but how could I explain what a videogame is? “As far as anyone from my country knows, it never really existed.”

“Well, as you can see, we’re plenty real,”

Unfortunately so, Catherine.

“As for this ‘Italy’,” Alois adds, a sad look coming to his face, “I’m sorry to say it, but no one here knows where it is either. I can tell you even without looking at a map that no cartographer has ever reported a land by that name.”

Unsurprising. How could they report it if it’s on a different world entirely?

Well, what now? It looks like I’m officially stranded here. God, that still feels so absurd to believe.

My first instinct would be to look for a way back home, but I don’t know if Three Houses has any interdimensional macguffins I can take advantage of.

Besides, my first priority should be finding shelter, food and water. The problem is, with only the clothes on me, I won’t be able to afford any of that in a medieval world. Now, how do I…?

“Ahem,” Catherine stirs me from my thoughts once again, “You have a habit of drifting off, don’t you?”

“Unfortunately,” I admit, “What did you say?”

“I asked if you know of Garreg Mach Monastery,” Alois intervenes.

“The monastery at the center of Fódlan?”

“Yup, that’s the one,” he confirms with his trademark smile on his face, “How about we take you there? The Monastery can offer you shelter.”

“Are you sure that’s wise, Alois?” Catherine interrupts him, her face hardening, “We have no way of confirming his story. Doesn’t it all sound a bit outlandish to you?”

Oh no, don’t tell me I’m about to be impaled by Thunderbrand!

“Outlandish or not, you saw how he got here. If he meant the Monastery harm, wouldn’t he have gotten directly there?”

Catherine makes to reply but instead she relents and her face relaxes.

“Alright, you have a point this time.”

“Of course I do!” Alois chuckles before turning back to me “So how does that sound?”

My first instinct is to decline. This offer  _ would _ resolve my problems, but I have no way of knowing when the game’s plot will begin, only that I’d rather have no part in that craziness.

But if I do decline I’d be back at square one, and I wouldn’t survive long on my own.

Guess I’ll have to make the most of it and get out before the Death Knight and Flame Emperor show up.

“Would dey really let me stay?”

“Of course! Garreg Mach is open to all!”

All who don’t piss your Archbishop off, you mean.

“Very well,” I sigh.

“Excellent!” he turns once again to Catherine “Think you and the others can keep looking for Monica while I accompany him?”

Monica? Isn’t that the name of the girl Kronya disguises as?

If this is when she disappears from the Monastery, it means right now it should be short before the graduation of the students from the year before the game’s characters’.

And if memory serves me right, that should be a month before the game’s beginning.

Well, damn.

“Alright, then!” Alois’ bombastic voice stirs me back to attention “Come with me, Eugenio.”

“See you at the Monastery,” Catherine adds before storming off into the woods.

Alois starts walking in the opposite direction and I quickly follow him.

* * *

It isn’t long before the two of us arrive on a path leading towards the mountains, where I can already see the shape of a huge structure with steeples that remind me of Notre-Dame from that one time I went to Paris. There are also walls on the lower levels of the hill it rests upon.

I can take a guess at what that is.

“There it is! Garreg Mach Monastery!”

Called it.

The two of us simply walk across the path for a bit. Alois’ pace is faster than what I’m used to, but not one I can’t keep up with.

As we get closer to the Monastery I can also take a better look at it. Even from this distance, the place looks huge. Huge enough to say comparing it to Notre-Dame might have belittled its size.

I also notice some shapes  _ literally _ flying around its aerial vicinity. Those have got to be Pegasus Knights and Wyvern Riders.

Boy oh boy, if I see a live Pegasus or Wyvern it’s sure going to be weird.

“You know, you’ve been lucky we found you before any thief did,” Alois says at one point, “They would have  _ robbed _ you of quite the honor.”

And not just that, thank you very much.

“From what you and Catherine said, I assume you were looking for someone named ‘Monica’?” I ask, mostly to prevent him from making any more of his bad jokes.

“Ah, yes,” his face falls almost immediately, “One of the students at the Academy. She mysteriously disappeared last night. The other Knights and I had been dispatched to find her.”

Yeah, good luck with that.

Although...was the Officers Academy in the game relatively recently founded or was it as old as Garreg Mach? Would I be contradicting myself if I already know of it?

“Tere’s an Academy nearby?” yeah, playing ignorant should do either way.

“You don’t know of it?” Alois stares at me with a stupefied look “The Officers Academy! The most prestigious place of study in all of Fódlan! It’s right at the Monastery!”

“I tought it was de main place of worship for de Church of Seiros,”

“Well, it is. But there’s more to it than that. Just how much of Fódlan’s history do you know?”

Yikes. Getting right to the point, are you?

“Uh...Seiros and de Four Saints defeated Nemesis, de Adrestian Empire was established, a few decades later Garreg Mach was founded and…” I hesitate after that. How much more can I say before I get to history recent enough for my bullshit to fall apart?

“Dat’s...pretty much it, I tink,” I ultimately tell him.

Alois rubs the back of his neck at that “Well, that’s…uh...”

That pause doesn’t sound good.

“Inaccurate?” Please don’t tell me this is an alternate Fódlan or some other nonsense like that.

“No, just...out of date,” oh, good “It has been almost a millennium since the Monastery’s founding. A lot of things have changed since then.”

No surprise there, “Can you give me a rundown?”

“Well, there have been several conflicts with nations neighbouring Fódlan, mainly Dagda and Brigid to the west and Almyra to the east. After a few succession disputes, parts of the Empire have seceded and formed the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus to the north and the Leicester Alliance to the east.”

Ok so far so good, this  _ is _ how it was in the game.

“So now it’s Faerghus to de nort, Leicester to de east and Adrestia everywhere else?” he nods at my question “Understood.”

Just as we finish that conversation, we arrive at the base of the hill, where the path begins to proceed all the way up to each wall and then to the Monastery itself.

And when I say all the way up, I mean all the long, steep way up.

“What now?”

“Now we go up.”

I turn to him. He’s smiling still, and not in any kind of mischievous way.

“What?”

* * *

As an asmatic, doing excessive exercises - like following an upward path at full sprint - is the kind of thing that I should never be doing.

Too bad I can’t explain what an asmatic is in a medieval setting.

The climb immediately proves as steep as it looked. Despite that, Alois proceeds through it like it’s nothing, only stopping when he notices I’m falling behind.

“Not used to this, are you?” he asks at one point.

“More like…” I say between heavy breaths “Trying to...endure...with my...weak lungs.”

“There’s no such thing as ‘weak lungs’! You’ll see, this will do you some good!”

If I don’t die first.

Thankfully, every time we reach one of the walls, there’s a few minutes of respite while Alois gets us free passage through those walls. Not many, though, since because this is Alois the guards give him that way too quickly, only wasting time to have looks at me. What sorts of looks those are, I can not tell.

What I  _ can _ tell is that by the time we reach some sort of small town outside of the last wall, I’m struggling to breath properly.

“I’m going...to hate...climbing...for de rest...of my days.”

“Oh, come on, it wasn’t  _ that _ bad.”

True. I didn’t trip and wake up in another world again. Doesn’t change the fact that now I’m exhausted.

“Speak for yourself,” I shoot back, “How are you...not even...breaking a sweat? Do dey...do dey make you...go up and down...every day?”

“Well...yes and no. The previous Captain had all recruits run up and down every morning as a training exercise. Most have taken up different training regimes since then, but I still like to partake in it every now and again,” goddammit, Jeralt! 

“I guess you could say, I’m…” oh, no! “ _ Running _ it into the ground!”

Be thankful I’m too tired to strangle you, Alois, because I want to so damn much!

After I manage to catch my breath, we proceed through the small town towards the Monastery’s gates.

I’ve got to say, the place looks more well kept than you’d expect from historical accounts of the era the game is based on. Clean streets, no beggars, no people walking around dressed in rags.

Although, perhaps that was due to the fact that there didn’t seem to be many buildings that served as actual homes. Some appeared to be inns, yes, but most of the rest were shops of some kind.

Was this place just some sort of enlarged mall for the students and the Academy’s staff?

Regardless, because the place isn’t particularly big, we arrive at the gates fairly quickly, and from there it’s the same as at the wall: Alois says hello, the guards say hello back, they glance at me and then they let us pass.

Beyond the gates, there’s an ensemble of tents and carts. Near almost each tent I can see a counter and a person selling stuff that varies from food to various types of weapons. This must be the in-game market. But since it is not what we are here for, we pass it quickly.

Right after that, we come across a man - possibly a boy younger than me - wearing the same set of armor as the other guards, helmet included. All I can see properly of him is his chin and his smiling mouth.

“Greetings, Sir Alois!”

“Hi there, Nebail!” Alois smiles back at the boy, “How are things today?”

“Nothing to report, sir!” why does that line sound familiar? “Any sign of Monica?”

“Nothing for now,” Alois sighs “But I’ve found someone else who needed help.”

He then turns to me, “Eugenio, this is Gatekeeper Nebail,” wait, is he  _ the _ Gatekeeper? “Nebail, allow me to introduce Eugenio.”

“Uh...hi?” is all I can say to him. Really wasn’t expecting to meet this guy.

“Ah, greetings Sir Eugenio!” he cheerfully says as he waves at me, “I’m the Gatekeeper here! My job here is to vigilantly guard this entrance with my very life! But you probably figured that out, right?” he chuckles softly, “What brings you to Garreg Mach?”

“Well, first of all, you can drop dat 'sir'. I’m pretty sure a foreigner’s position in Fódlan’s social hierarchy is dat of a commoner.”

“Ah, I see,” his eyes trail down to my clothes “Are you from Dagda? No wait, Lady Shamir has never worn anything like that. Mach, perhaps? Or maybe Morfis?”

“His origins are complicated,” Alois intervenes before I can reply “Essentially, we found him nearby with no idea of how he came to Fódlan.”

“Oh my!”

“Indeed. Do you know where Seteth is right now?”

“Ah, yes. I think he’s in his office. Probably preparing graduation day despite, well…”

Despite Monica missing. And, unbeknownst to them, dead or whatever the Slitherers did to her. Or are going to do to her.

“Right,” Alois sighs “Well, we’re off. Keep up the good work, my boy.”

“Of course, sir!” the Gatekeeper salutes him.

And then we’re on the move again.

I must say, as majestic as Garreg Mach appeared in the games, the real thing doesn’t feel that greater compared to other churches I’ve been to. The deity worshipped might be different, but the same sense of grandeur big places like this try to convey remains the same. And it more than wore down for me long ago.

The one thing that’s different from those places is the amount of attention I attract from the people around me.

Every corridor Alois and I walk through, every corner we turn, if there is someone, they turn their gazes in our directions. Or rather, mine.

Some of them are people armored from head to toe - probably Knights of Seiros - whose expressions I can’t read any more than the guards at the walls. But the majority are either folks wearing white and brown clerical robes - priests and priestesses of the Church I suspect - or teens wearing black jackets with bronze markings - the students of this year, I’d wager.

And  _ their _ expressions I can see.

What they are looking at is not me specifically, but rather what I wear. All of them are looking at it with either confusion or disapproval or something in between.

And why shouldn’t they? As Catherine said, this isn’t something of their world. Just like I am not.

I shake my head at that thought. Now’s not the time for that.

Occasionally, I have a look at the students, curious to see if I can recognize any of those from the game.

Disappointingly, although not unexpectedly since this is the year before their own, I find none of them. But perhaps if I stick around long enough...

No, that’s not a good line of thought. My goal here is finding a way home  _ before _ all the craziness. Byleth is the one that will have to deal with Edelgard’s plots, Dimitri’s PTSD and Claude’s ambitions. I’m just a passer-by that must make sure not to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I’ll just be content to have met Alois, Catherine and the Gatekeeper. And apparently Seteth.

Who is actually Saint Cichol. Who is actually a millenia old dragon whose family was butchered by humans that harvested their organs to create magic weapons. And who may think I’m a threat to eliminate if I say the wrong thing.

Oh, no…

“Ah, here we are!” Alois declares, snapping me back to reality.

We are now standing before a door, presumably the entrance to Seteth’s office. I’m not sure when we got here, but I’m suddenly thinking coming to the Monastery was a terrible idea.

“Now, listen: Seteth is the assistant of Archbishop Rhea, the leader of the Church. First thing we need to do is introduce you to him and explain your situation. He’ll then introduce you to the Archbishop and we’ll work the details from there. Sounds good?”

“What do I do if he tells me to leave?”

“Nah, that won’t happen! I’ve known him since he started working here twenty years ago,” Twenty? How did he keep up the ‘older than I look’ thing for so long? “He may appear austere at first, but he’s actually a very nice fellow.”

“Now, then,” he turns to the door and raises his fist “Let’s…”

Before he can knock, the door opens and we come face-to-face with a man wearing a caped dark blue tunic with bronze markings similar to those of the students’ and a circlet around his head. He also has green eyes, hair and beard and a solemn expression on his face.

“Good day, Alois,” he greets the Knight.

“Ah, good day to you as well, Seteth! How did you know I was here?”

“I heard you through the door,” he then turns to me “I assume you are the one whose situation needs to be explained?”

“Ah, yes,” I gulp. Here goes nothing I guess “My name is Eugenio. Glad to meet you mister Setet.”

“Likewise,” he says neutrally before his eyes start sizing me up.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen an outfit like yours, though,” he says after a bit, “Where does it come from?”

“From my homeland,” I answer. Better stick as close to the truth as possible with him “It’s a land you probably don’t know. It’s called Italy.”

He arches an eyebrow at my answer and his gaze turns scrutinizing.

“Please, come into my office you two,” he just says “I believe you have quite a lot to explain.”

He goes back inside and we follow him.

This office of his is a simple thing: just a pair of bookshelves resting against the walls and a wooden desk. And matching the spirit of the room, the only things on it are a mountain of papers, an inkwell and a feather resting inside it.

Seteth sits on his side of the desk and gestures for us to sit at the other.

“So…” he begins, “I believe you and the Knights were on a mission, Alois. How did you come across him?”

What follows is Alois’ retelling of his and Catherine’s meeting with me and what I told them, mixed with a couple of his bad jokes that Seteth doesn’t even acknowledge. In fact, he remains impassive even through what must probably seem like the most outlandish of claims.

Maybe after being told I’m from a country he’s never heard of before, he is prepared for any and all strangeness.

Or maybe he’s just looking for inconsistencies in my story and use them to tear it apart. That seems more likely.

“So let me summarize,” he tells me when Alois is finished “You say you come from a land far away from Fódlan, whose knowledge of it stems only from legends detailing our ancient history. And the only thing you know about how you arrived here is that one moment you were falling down your house’s stairs and the next you are in a field?”

The blank stare he gives me says the question he’s not asking.

“ _ Really? _ ”

Well, now what do I say?

“I know it sounds absurd,” to put it mildly “But it’s true.”

“I can attest to that!” Alois jumps in my defense, “Catherine and I were both there when it happened!”

“So you’ve said, Alois,” Seteth concedes “However, a Warp spell powerful enough to send him from Dagda or Almyra to the Oghma Mountains would have been too complex to perform on such short notice. And from what you are saying, he comes from even farther than that.”

Alois makes to rebut, but whatever he’s going to say dies in his throat almost immediately.

Seteth turns back to me “What do you have to say on the matter? Does your country possess the means necessary to perform that kind of spell?”

...I can’t tell them we don’t have magic. He’ll never believe that.

“In all honesty, I know very little of magic as well,” yeah, let’s go with that “But I’m pretty sure no one near where I live is an experienced mage,” understatement of the century.

Seteth doesn’t say anything at first, apparently opting to just stare at me some more.

“What is it you intend to do then?”

That caught me off guard.

“Uh?”

“Now that you are here in Fódlan, what is it you intend to do?”

“I…” I have to take a deep breath before continuing “What I would like to do is return home. As exciting as finding out a legendary land actually exists, I have a life where I come from. Aldough…” I pause, the next few words hard to hear from my own mouth “Aldough I don’t know if...if I…”

“I understand,” Seteth interrupts me, his expression softening ever so slightly.

It takes me a couple more calming breaths before going on “But first, I need some form of shelter. And I don’t know enough about de land to handle myself,” I point at Alois “Heck, if he hadn’t told me, I would have had no idea de Empire had split up,” a lie, but still consistent with what I said so far.

His face becomes meditative at that, probably evaluating if I’m believable enough or not.

“I think we can arrange something that would benefit both you and the Church,” he says, “The Church can offer you room and board in exchange for a bit of labor.”

“What sort of labor?”

“Cleaning rooms, aiding in the kitchen or greenhouse, keeping the library in order, that sort of things.”

Ok, manual labor I can do. But I hope my job won’t be  _ all _ of those.

“Alright,” I concede, “I tink dat is doable.”

“Excellent.”

“Great!” Alois chimes in.

“Now,” he stands up, “If you’d follow me, I’ll take you to the Archbishop.”

I almost sigh. I managed to convince him I don’t need to be killed. Yet. Now I just need to convince the unstable Dragon Pope with a misanthropic view of humanity.

Easy peasy, right?

* * *

It isn’t long before Seteth leads us to the entrance of the Archbishop’s chambers. He enters before us to explain the situation to Rhea and the conditions of our arrangement.

Leaving me with my worries.

“Nope, he hasn’t.”

And Alois. Who is currently making no sense.

“He hasn’t what?”

“Worked here since he was a child. That’s usually everyone’s reaction when I tell them he’s been here for twenty years.”

Oh, right.

“Den how…?”

Alois shrugs, “No idea, in twenty years he’s always looked exactly the same.”

He briefly looks around and then leans closer to my ear.

“I believe it has to do with the fact that he possesses a Major Crest of Cichol,” he whispers, “Major Crests of the Saints seem to grant a longer lifespan.”

I wish I could tell him the truth. It would save me all this playing ignorant.

“What makes you say dat?” I whisper back.

“My old mentor possessed a Major Crest of Seiros and he once told me he stopped counting his years when he reached a hundred years of age. A hundred!”

I pretend to be surprised, “Well, damn.”

“I know, right?”

The door opens shortly after that exchange.

“The Archbishop will now receive you,” Seteth says as he gestures for us to come in.

Two things catch my attention as we enter.

The first is how clean it is. Like impossibly clean if this place is where Rhea spends most of her days.

The second one is something in common with Seteth’s office: no personal belongings. Only the same glass windows this place has in the game as well.

And of course, in the middle of it there’s the woman herself.

“Welcome, Eugenio,” she greets me, “I am Archbishop Rhea.”

Her outfit is much like the one from the game, with the white robe, blue cape with the trademark bronze markings and the headpiece with those silly blue ribbons.

Rhea herself is also like in the game: green hair and eyes combo, standing tall and steady and with a serene expression on her face that still seems to demand respect.

Of course, it doesn’t help that I know she’d have that same serene expression even if she were flaying me alive. Or that she can even  _ eat _ me alive.

“Lady Rhea,” I take a small bow. Better play it safe with her.

“Seteth has told me your story. A truly unusual and unfortunate experience,” she turns her gaze to Alois, “I’ve also been told you and Catherine witnessed the way in which he arrived, Alois. May you describe it to me in more detail?”

“Well, there isn’t much to tell,” Alois’ tone is surprisingly quiet for him, “It was Catherine who noticed it at first. Something was...I’m not sure how to describe it. At first it wasn’t there, then it slowly started to become visible. When it was done, that something turned out to be him.”

“Is that all?” Rhea asks, “No strange light? No...glyph?”

What are you getting at, lady?

“None whatsoever.”

“I see,” she turns back to me, “It would appear whoever or whatever brought you to Fódlan, used a type of Warp magic unlike any used here. That is a troubling thought.”

Alright, so what?

“It is most likely those responsible had a further goal in mind for you,” yeah, having fun at my expense “But fear not. While you remain within these walls you’ll be protected. Standing against the Church of Seiros is equal to standing against the Goddess and our world itself. A rather unpleasant position, wouldn’t you agree?”

I gulp. This is probably her way of saying ‘behave or else’.

“I do.”

She nods at me.

“One last thing. How many, besides those in this room and Catherine, know of your foreign origins?”

“Uh…” I have to scratch my head as I think about that “We passed many in de Monastery who have seen me wearing dis,” I point at my hoodie, “De only one I actively told was de Gatekeeper. And anyone else who has heard me talk probably figured it out.”

“Not necessarily. Your accent is not too different from that of a dialect spoken in villages to the south-east of the County of Gloucester,”

Really?

“As long as you remain here, your true origins will have to be kept hidden. As of now, you are no longer Eugenio from Italy. You are Eugenio from Varholm Village.”

Village what?

“Is dat one of dose villages of the County?” I tentatively ask.

“Indeed.”

“The Gatekeeper you were referring to is Sir Nebail Luford, if I’m correct in assuming?” Seteth asks.

Who?

“Yep, that’s the one,” Alois answers for me.

“I’ll inform him of the situation and tell him to keep quiet. I trust you’ll do the same with Catherine, Alois?”

“Of course!”

“Good,” Rhea comments, “Your work begins tomorrow, Eugenio. We’ll have someone fetch you in the morning.”

I bow once more, “Tank you, Lady Rhea. I’ll do my best.”

“I’m sure you will,” she replies “After all, it would be unbecoming to turn your back to those who so kindly offered you aid when you needed it.”

Geez, lady, I get it!

“I will take care of him now,” Seteth says, “Alois, you’re dismissed.”

“Understood,” he then turns to me “Once you’re settled in, I’ll catch up with you and give you a tour, alright?”

I have to nod at that. There’s no way I’ll remember the layout from the game perfectly.

“Great! It’ll be fun to  _ tour _ you around!”

...is that an actual way of saying or is he trying to be funny again?

“Get it? ‘Tour’ because...ah, never mind. See you later.”

I almost feel bad about his disappointed face as he leaves. Almost.

“Now then,” Seteth intervenes, “Please, follow me.”

* * *

The ‘dormitories’ were in a different building than the offices of the Monastery’s staff, so we had to walk some more. Meaning more people had the chance to see me walk around with stuff not native of their homeland.

I have a hard time believing Rhea will manage to convince anyone I’m from the Alliance after today.

One thing I can say Alois has over Seteth is the talkativeness. Granted, I’m not a great conversationalist myself, but the silence between the two of us feels really uncomfortable. Maybe it’s a sign I was getting used to Alois’ voice.

Or maybe it’s the fact that it’s just me and him and he may be taking me somewhere I can be disposed of without witnesses. That’s also a possibility.

“Here we are.”

Guess not.

We’ve stopped in front of one of the doors within the halls of this place. What’s different from the others I have no idea, but Seteth seems to think something is.

“For as long as you remain, this will be your room.”

I open the door and find a small room that I can only describe as ‘basic’. The only things present are a bed, a table, a crate and a window from which light comes in.

It’s not much but hey, I’ve seen places with far bigger problems.

“So…” I tell Seteth, “Is dat all?”

“Just one more thing. In order to convince everyone you’re from Fódlan you’ll need to wear something less…peculiar.”

He’s right, of course. What I currently have on me is a pair of jeans, a pair of shoes and, underneath my hoodie, a modern shirt.

Definitely not something you’d see in a medieval setting.

“Wait here,” he says as picks up the crate, “I’ll return with something.”

He leaves and returns within a few minutes, with the crate filled with clothes.

“These will be your uniform,” he pulls a key from one of his pockets and gives it to me “And this is the door to your room.”

“Tank you.”

“No need to thank me. Just be careful not to lose it.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to. Have a good day.”

As soon as he gets out of the room, I close the door shut and have a proper look at my new garments.

The ‘uniform’ consists of a brownish tunic with matching pants and dark boots. No idea what they’re made of, but the fabric seems heavier than one would expect.

Ok, now it’s all a matter of changing into them. But first…

I search the pockets of my jeans and find them: my phone, my house keys, my wallet and my documents. All stuff that here, at best, will be useless and at worst will raise questions that will land me into trouble.

I place them to the bottom of the crate, under all the pieces of clothing. Where no one will find them.

Alright.  _ Now _ I can change.

The process doesn’t take long, but I quickly realize that my ‘uniform’ might be a bit looser than what I’m used to. Oh, well.

Now, Alois said he’d come for me. Guess I’ll just sit on the bed and wait.

…

I wonder if he’ll tell me some stuff about the Monastery the game glosses over. I certainly already know the stuff he doesn’t. Like that the librarian is secretly a madman that will destroy a village just to piss Byleth off and will casually rip out the heart of one of his allies. Or that the fencing instructor is an unstoppable bloodthirsty murderer. Or that the girl he was looking for has been killed and replaced by people who have been plotting revenge against the Church for millenia.

Or that two of the students of next year will spearhead a full-scale continental war that will claim the lives of thousands.

…

GODDAMMIT, WHY?

I realize I’ve punched the mattress. I don’t care.

Why me? What did I do to deserve this? I already had enough problems back home without the shitshow that is this game!

What was I even supposed to do here? Magically heal Edelgard and everyone else with ‘the power of friendship’? Don’t make me laugh, I’d only make things worse.

Only thing I can do now is pray I’m right about this world having some sort of interdimensional travel. Because if it doesn’t, I…

Someone bangs at my door.

“Hey, Eugenio! It’s me, Alois! Are you ready?”

Alois? Already? How long was I there?

No, it doesn’t matter.

I take a deep breath.

“Yes, I’m coming Alois.”

Keep those thoughts to yourself. Cool exterior. The only one you can rely on to see this through is yourself.

* * *

[RHEA]

“ _ In time’s flow...see the glow of flames ever burning bright… _ ”

This song has always helped calm me in dire times. The only thing left of Mother besides the Sword of the Creator.

“ _ On the swift river’s drift, broken memories alight… _ ”

This Eugenio’s words were lies. Of that I am certain.

Ever since the War of Heroes there has been no exodus large enough to create another civilization overseas. If this “Italy” existed beforehand and came in contact with Fódlan, I would have known.

The only ones that could have created such a place without my knowledge are the descendants of the Agarthans. And if that is the case, Eugenio must have been in Fódlan longer than he said and studied both the common language and the history passed down by the Church.

However, if he truly is part of those people, why create such a paper-thin cover story? Does he not know our true identities? Is he a distraction from something else? Or are my and Seteth’s assumptions incorrect and we are dealing with something else entirely?

Unfortunately, the answers to those questions will only reveal themselves by keeping him close, no matter how little I like this.

The man is an anomaly. And when it comes to humans, anomalies are never a good thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome readers to Entrapped! A self-insert fic of Fire Emblem: Three Houses.
> 
> Not much to say beyond that. I hope you enjoyed (or at least tollerated) this first chapter.
> 
> Also, I would like to thank the people at the TreeHouse discord server for the help they provided. Special thanks to Narwhal Lord, Lower (or LowerBlack as he goes by on this site) and 16th-Beat.
> 
> If you're interested, join us on the server! Code: 9XG3U7a. You can also find links to everyone's fics there.
> 
> Anyways, I'll see you all next time.


	2. Chapter 2-Garreg Mach

After leaving the dormitories, Alois makes way through the courtyard with me following close behind.

Now that I’m wearing clothes more in line with everyone else’s, I notice that there are way fewer people looking at me. Even a couple of students I think I crossed paths with earlier don’t seem to notice me at all now. I guess back there they just acknowledged me as ‘the guy with unusual clothing’ or something like that.

Not that I complain though. The less attention I draw, the less questions about my background and my being here.

Perhaps Rhea was right to give me a cover identity.

“Here’s our first stop for the tour! The Officers Academy!” Alois announces.

We’ve arrived in front of a four floor building, with three columns of windows that go through each floor. Nothing about it is particularly note-worthy. If it is for medieval standards, I have no idea.

Well, onward with playing ignorant.

“You said it’s a military academy, right?”

“Yup. Rigorous physical training, application of magic to the battlefield, tactics study, all of that.”

So basically what one could discern from the game. And so is probably everything else. One year here, one house of students for each nation and one professor for each of their classes.

Actually...was it ever said if the background students were part of those classes and just not plot-relevant or something else?

Well, I have right here someone who can answer that. I just have to think of a good way to ask it.

“Besides de subjects being dose, how is the Academy organized?”

Yeah, that should do.

“The students are divided into three houses: the Black Eagle for students from the Empire, the Blue Lions for those from the Kingdom and the Golden Deer for those from the Alliance.”

Which I already knew.

“Then there’s also the divisions into classes.”

Ok, that’s new.

“Classes?”

“Yes. Each house is divided into various classes. There’s usually the one with the house leader and the most promising of the students of their year plus about half a dozen others from each house.”

Huh...guess that detail wasn’t plot-relevant enough to mention in the game.

But still, if Alois’ estimates were accurate that meant...twenty-one classes? With only three teachers?

“And de professors?”

“There’s one for each of the subjects studied. They are shared by all of the classes,” ah, that makes sense, “Three of them, however, serve as the homeroom for the Houses, one for each. Their responsibilities are overseeing the well-being of the students from their House and take them on missions each month.”

Ah, that’s different from how the game made it sound. Then again, this makes more sense than one teacher teaching a third of the Academy all the subjects. The current homeroom teachers must be Manuela, Hanneman and whoever Byleth’s predecessor is, I assume.

Oh, wait.

“Missions?”

“Yep. At the end of every month the houses go on a mission with the Knights. A chance to get some field experience and test what they’ve learned.”

Normally I’d refrain from questioning the mentalities of religious groups. Best not to trigger any potential zealot. But I guess since this is Alois...

“Is dat really safe for de students?”

“Don’t worry,” he reassures me “They go specifically with the Knights so we can protect them. Plus, not all missions are as dangerous as you think.”

Yeah, that’s not what I remember from the game.

Although, now that I think about it, there were a few characters that mentioned that was a particularly eventful year.

“I’ll take your word for it,” I concede.

He chuckles at that, “More like you’ll take my _ actions _ for it, eh?”

The fuck does that even mean?

“You know because…” he interrupts himself mid-sentence and his face quickly goes from pale to a tomato-like red, “Actually no, forget it. That came out very very wrong.”

“Ok…?” if even he thought it was bad, it had to be a whole new level of terrible.

“Anyway…what’s next for de tour?”

“Right,” he clears his throat and returns to his normal complexion “Yes, follow me.”

We walk some more through the courtyard and arrive at a crossroad. In front of us there’s a set of stairs that leads up to some structure with some windows releasing what seems to be...steam?

“That over there is the sauna. It’s where you’ll see people go to bathe most of the time.”

Oh. The not-so-fanservicy fanservice structure from the third DLC.

“Then there’s the students’ dormitories.”

I turn to the left and see Alois is pointing at another structure, similar to the dormitories I settled in, only with fewer floors and stretching much farther, to the point I can’t see where it ends.

“Just how long is dis ting?”

“It stops just short of the gates,” Alois explains, “It’s kind of needed considering all students are required to reside here during their year of studies.”

I pity those with difficulties in trying to understand which room is their own.

“And now, this way.”

He leads me to the right, where a pair of huge wooden doors adorned with four columns of marble plates stands. Each column consists of five plates, each with some kind of drawing graven into it. What those drawings are supposed to represent, I have no idea.

Alois pushes one of the doors open and gestures for me to come in.

Beyond the door, I am met by the sight of this large squared area surrounded by columns.

Within the square, I can see a few groups of students, some sparring amongst themselves with swords, lance and axes; some shooting at targets with arrows and…

Oh my god, was that fire? A frigging fire spell?

Looking at the direction the spell came from, I see a girl dressed with the students’ uniform waving her hands around, a few embers dancing in them. Close to her, there are others doing the same thing, some with those same embers in their hands, others with sparks of electricity, leaves and dirt moved by the wind, snowflakes or some kind of dark liquid instead. All of them are firing to the same set of dummies with some sort of markings painted on them that somehow never go to pieces.

Not gonna lie, the whole scene is a beauty to behold.

Alois’s laughter stirs me back to attention, “Enjoying the view, I take it?”

It is at his question that I realize I was eyeing the students. And how that could be interpreted.

“Sorry,” I gulp, “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay. I’m no good at it, but I always find it a..._ magical experience _!”

Oh, goddammit with your puns, Alois.

“Anyways, welcome to the training grounds! The place where students practice the skills they learn here at the Monastery!”

A door that fancy for the Monastery’s equivalent of a gym?

Still...I have to admit, this place looks quite larger than its in-game counterpart. And the students seem to be the only ones training. Didn’t Catherine also come to train here? And wasn’t there supposed to be a tournament organizer? Then again, how do they hold tournaments with so many people around?

“Is it always dis crowded?”

“Not always, today it probably is because next week they’ll all be graduating,” next week? “Gotta blow off some steam, you know?”

“I see,” not sure how good exhausting themselves like this will actually be but hey, it’s their problem, “So when is de exact day of graduation?”

“The actual graduation ceremony will be on the twenty-second of this moon. But the students will have their final exams during the whole week. Can’t say I envy you. Here at the Monastery, this is usually the busiest week of the year.”

Oh geez, thanks for telling me.

“At least the two after are the quietest. What with the students leaving during one and the new arriving during the other.”

Is that so? So within the next three weeks the students from the game should arrive here. Including Edelgard. I wonder if…

No, if I try saying anything about her plots Hubert will make sure I don’t walk out of it alive.

“Excuse me,” a voice says from behind us.

I turn around and the sight of who it is freezes my blood.

A tall muscular man, with long pale blonde hair partially hanging by his temple and partially behind his head. His clothing consists of a black shirt and pants, an ash and red tunic, a shoulder plate and armored gauntlets. His face is mostly covered by a white mask which only emphasizes his blue lifeless eyes.

“Ah, sorry Professor Jeritza,”

Holy shit! The frigging Death Knight? He’s already here? Oh, this is bad. This is really…

“You’re staring.”

I blink at hearing that.

“What?”

“You’re staring at me,” Jeritza repeats, “I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Sorry, sir,” I reply, standing aside to let him pass.

Great. I’m now on the Death Knight’s shit list.

“Don’t worry about him,” Alois tells me, “He’s strange but mostly harmless.”

Him, harmless? I’d laugh, but I’d rather not attract any more attention from him.

“Who is he again?” I ask while trying to maintain my composure.

“The new fencing instructor: Viscount Jeritza von Hrym. His predecessor will be retiring at the end of this moon and then he’ll be teaching swordsmanship to the students.”

Wonder if they’ll call him back once they find out who and what ‘Jeritza’ actually is.

“Anyways, shall we go on?”

“Yes, please” the less time I’m near that lunatic, the better. I scurry behind Alois as we leave the facility, because there’s still a lot to see, and hopefully my legs won’t fail me.

I take one last glance at the student who’s by all means playing with fire… I’m a bit more fascinated than I have any right to be.

* * *

After the training grounds, nothing really noteworthy happens. The remaining parts of the Monastery are very much like their in-game counterparts, the major differences being that they all are larger (just like the training grounds) and more distant between one another.

The courtyard has a series of bulletin boards hanging all around, which also include a calendar for the month detailing any special day or event.

The greenhouse and the fishing pond are...the greenhouse and the fishing pond. They serve exactly the same purposes as in the game: growing plants and fishing. Not much else that I can say about them.

When we reach the part of the Monastery where the stables were in the game, though, a surprise awaits me.

The stables _ are _ there. Along with another building that stands tall over them, with two towers at its sides that go even higher than the building itself. These towers also have huge openings all across them. The purpose of them I can not tell, at least, at first.

While I look at the structure, a shape moves from the corner of my sight and heads straight for one of the towers. It’s only when it lands right by one of the openings that I notice it’s a woman riding a horse. A _ winged _ horse.

Holy shit, was that an actual Pegasus Knight?

“And here are the barracks of the Knights of Seiros!”

Barracks? What barracks? There were no barracks in the game!

“Is dis where you and de oder Knights live?”

“Yep! Live, train, keep our equipment, that sort of things. We also keep the mounts for the whole Monastery,” he turns his head to the stables, “Be they horses,” he turns it to the towers “Or pegasi and wyverns.”

“For de whole Monastery?”

“The Knights aren’t the only ones who use them. Some of these mounts are used by the clergy to travel around and by the students during their lessons on riding or during missions.”

Guess that explains where the students get their mounts upon promotion. But still, damn, this place seems important. Why did the game gloss over it?

“It must suck having to tend to dese mounts for everyone.”

“Well, it’s not _ all _ up to us. Every week, some students are assigned to assist us in tending to them. Helps them learn how to treat mounts responsibly, you know?”

Ah, the group tasks from the game.

“I see. Anyting else I should know about it?”

“Well, we have our own training grounds, separate from the students’,” that...actually makes sense, “Every moon, Stephan, one of my fellow Knights organizes a tournament among students there.”

Wait, they are held there?

“A tournament?”

“Yep. Stephan chooses one specific type of weapon to use, then he gathers students interested in participating and then they have one-on-one fights. Whoever comes out on top, wins a sum of money.”

Like in the game.

“Does de money come from de Church’s coffers?”

“Yes and no,” what? “The Church is the one giving the prize, but the funds for it come from Stephan’s family. He is related to a minor lord of the Empire, you see.”

Oh.

“So, he’s de one who introduced dese tournaments to de Monastery.”

“Yup. I hope his family keeps financing them once he’s no longer around, though.”

He says the last bit with his usual cheer, but his smile falters after saying it. Not a good sign with someone like him.

“Any oder important person among de Knights I should know about?”

“Oh yeah,” his smile returns normal, “There’s Captain Friedrich, our leader,” oh, right. There had to be another Captain before Jeralt’s return, “Although for only a few more moons. He’ll retire soon.”

How convenient.

“And his successor?”

“It hasn’t been decided yet but...well…” he rubs the back of his neck, “One of the candidates is me.”

Wait, that’s true. In his endings outside of the Crimson Flower route, he becomes the new Captain.

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles nervously “Although it’s too soon to celebrate. There are a couple of other candidates for the position.”

“Still, being considered for a position of autority like dat doesn’t sound like someting dat comes easily.”

“It isn’t. And I’m honored for it. But I’m not being self-deprecating when I say the others are just as capable.”

If you say so. Though the Church does appoint you as the new Captain in the end. Although that’s assuming the others are alive by the end of the game.

“Anyway, there’s also another resident here at the barracks: a blacksmith by the name of Blake. Bit of a skirt-chaser, but one of the best smiths I have ever met in all my years here.”

Skirt-chaser, eh? Sounds like someone Sylvain will be best friends with. I just hope not to get caught in their shenanigans.

Although...why does the game make Byleth go to the market to repair weapons if the Monastery already has a blacksmith on the staff?

“I think that’s everyone with the most specific jobs. I have a few more friends among the Knights, but I’d rather introduce them in person when if get the chance.”

Good enough for me. Less names I’ll have to remember.

“Ok, so...what next?”

“Huh?”

“What other structures are dere to see?”

“Well…” Alois rubs his chin in thought “I believe this is pretty much it. The only other places I can think of are the cathedral proper, the dining hall and the library.”

So, what do I do now?

“Say, how did you find your room?”

What?

“My room?”

“Yeah, did you find it to your taste?”

Truthfully, I didn’t pay much attention to it. I had just enough time to change before he came along to distract me from the fact I’m trapped here with a bunch of traumatized teens, shady plots and a war on the- Ok no, focus!

“It’s liveable,” I shrug, “It’ll take some getting used to it, but I’ll manage.”

If I showed any sign of my inner thoughts, he doesn’t seem to have noticed, “Well, I think there’s a way to help with that,” he reaches for his belt and tosses me a pouch.

"Wha...?" I stutter when I open it, the content turning out to be silver coins, with a couple of golden ones among them. "What... Alois, what's dis for?"

“I think buying something at the market to decorate your room would help settling in.”

I make to protest.

“And did you have money on you?”

“Uh…” well I did leave my wallet in my room. But even then… “None dat is used in Fódlan. I tink.”

He gives me a smug smile, “As I thought.”

“But still, dis is your money…”

“And if it’s spent on helping someone in need, I’m okay with that.”

I take another glance at the pouch. I have no idea how much I’m holding but it has to be quite a lot. Should I really be taking advantage of Alois like this? He certainly doesn’t seem intent on relenting on this. Still doesn’t feel right to take another man’s hard-earned money like this.

“Can we at least agree dat I’ll be returning to you what I don’t spend?”

“Well, if you prefer it that way, I can agree to that.”

“Tanks. And I promise, I’ll pay you back someday.”

“Nah, no need,” he chuckles amicably “As long as you buy something you like, I’m content.”

You are too nice for your own good Alois. As your supports with Catherine demonstrate. I pocket the money for now. I’m admittedly a bit interested in seeing what oddities this fantasy land market has to offer.

* * *

It quickly becomes clear that half of the merchants trade in weapons, armor and all other stuff meant for a battlefield. There are, however, a few that sell other things. The most frequent are flowers, decorative plants, fishing baits (at which I’d swear Alois’ eyes were glowing) and statuettes of the Goddess or some other religious stuff like that. None of which I’m really interested in.

But there are a few others with some interesting piece. Like the one we are at right now: a stall exposing wooden statuettes of various animals. There’s an eagle, a lion and a deer, which is fitting considering what the Houses’ names are. There’s also other animals that are from my world as well, like horses, tigers, birds and rabbits. Another one represents a pegasus, although the only true difference from the horse is the presence of wings.

But the one that catches my attention is the one right next to the pegasus: a wyvern.

I don’t know why, but reptiles, be they fictional or real, have always fascinated me. And this one looks quite fierce. It’s standing tall on its hind legs, wings spread as wide as it can, neck curved forward and jaws wide open showing an impressively well carved set of teeth.

It’s undoubtedly meant to be intimidating, but I can’t help finding it cool.

“Well, that’s...eye-catching,” Alois comments uncomfortably at the sight of the statuette.

“You are not a fan of wyverns, I take it?”

“No, it’s not that,” that drop running down your neck begs to differ, “It’s just...well, they remind me of the day I tried riding one.”

He did what?

“Oh? How did it go?”

He blushes, “Let’s just say the less said about it, the better.”

That bad, uh?

“Alright.”

I turn to the merchant at the other side of the stall, a tall middle-aged man with a graying beard as the only hair on his head. The sleeveless shirt he wears reveals two muscular arms with various scratches on the hands. I wonder, did he make every one of these himself?

“How much does dis one cost?” I ask him.

“Fifty silvers, lad.”

Huh, that seems a lot.

I turn to Alois, “Are you sure it’s okay to…?”

“As I said, don’t worry. Fifty silvers isn’t that big of a deal.”

“Well, if you’re sure…”

“Sure I’m sure!”

“Ok, then.”

I grab the pouch, and pull out one of the golden coins. Let’s see if that’s enough to pay for those silvers.

After taking the coin, the man reaches for a pouch of his own and drops out several silver coins, of which he proceeds to pick up and give me...ten...twenty...holy shit, fifty?

“Pleasure doing business with you, lad,” he says neutrally.

“Likewise, sir,” I reply dumbfounded.

One gold was _ more _ than enough, I see. Good to know I didn’t do anything weird in the eyes of everyone else.

I put the silvers into the pouch, pick up the wyvern and then we leave the kiosk.

I’ve got to say, this statuette looks even better up close. The body is covered by marks that resemble the pattern of scales, the claws of the hind legs give a good impression of being sharp and the part where the membrane is supposed to be is noticeably less thick than the rest of the wings. Pretty good details.

The antlers on the head look weird to me but, hey, all wyverns in Three Houses had them.

“Dis should do nicely,” I offer the pouch back to Alois “I tank you again.”

He looks surprised by my gesture, “Wait, that’s it?”

“Sure. Dis alone is pretty nice. Don’t you tink so?”

“Uh…” he gives a nervous glance to the statuette “Yeah, I...guess so?”

Oh, Alois, you poor unfortunate soul.

“Well, I tink I’ll bring it to my room now.”

“Right, right,” he says nervously.

As we start making our way back to the dormitories, I notice that the sky has begun darkening. Has it really been a whole day already?

“You know,” Alois says as he glances upwards, “It just occurred to me that I haven’t shown you the way to the dining hall.”

That...is true.

“Would you mind if I come fetching you when it’s time for dinner?”

Well, considering I also don’t know _ when _ we’re supposed to eat…

“Sure ting.”

“Great!”

* * *

Now let's see... where was my room again? Alois left me at the entrance of the dormitories, so I am finding my way back. Right turn...take the stairs up to the third floor and then... and then I happen upon Seteth, looking as unfriendly as ever.

“Ah, you’re here. I was just looking for you.”

“Is dere a problem?” Please don’t say you’re altering the terms of our deal or something like that.

“No, not a problem. I…” his eyes drift to my side, where I’m holding the wooden wyvern, “I see you’ve been to the market.”

“Oh, yes. Alois offered to buy me someting to decorate my room. I hope it’s not a problem.”

“No, not a problem. Although...I’m curious,” he glances towards the infamous object in my hand, “Why that in particular?”

“Uh…” I glance at the statuette as well, “I just like reptiles. And we don’t have wyverns where I come from, so…”

“You don’t?” he interrupts me.

“No. We don’t have pegasi either.”

He proceeds to just observing my face, his eyes taking a curious look. Should I have kept quiet about that?

“Was dere someting you needed to tell me?”

“Ah, yes,” and he’s back to business, “I just wanted to inform you that you’ve been assigned to assist our librarian, Tomas.”

What?

“Me? Assist de librarian?”

“Yes. The fact that you’ve taken the effort to learn a language that is not your own and can speak it fluently enough implies a level of education the common folk don’t usually have access to.

“Besides, said language being one from legends suggests you are a dedicated scholar.”

I gulp. How do I tell him he’s totally off the mark without digging my own grave?

“It’s...not as you tink.”

“Oh?” he arches an eyebrow “Then tell me, what is it like?”

Damn it.

Gods of geography, please don’t smite me, “Your language is not exclusive to legends. Dere’s a country neighbouring our own, where they speak one very similar to yours.”

His eyebrow is still arched. Shit.

“It’s true. When I first met Alois and Caterine I tought dey were from dere.”

His face shifts back to normal, “I see. Alois didn’t mention you acting too surprised by what language they were speaking. I suppose that explains that.”

Oh, thank goodness.

“But still, the fact that you’ve learned a different language from your own remains. And so does the point that it takes a type of education not accessible to all to do that. The right kind of man to work in the library.”

Too bad _ that _ isn’t the problem. The fact ‘Tomas’ is only the guise used by Solon to infiltrate the Monastery is.

“Would Tomas really have me? I’ve never done dis kind of work.”

“To_ mas _,” he corrects me “And yes, he would. He said so himself.”

Wait, he actually talked to him already?

“What...what have you told him about me?”

“What we agreed with the Archbishop. You are from Varholm Village and will stay at the Monastery from now on.”

Oh, good.

“In any case, the library here at the Monastery is the most provided in all of Fódlan. If there is any lead to be found about your homeland, it’s in our history books. Working at the library would give you free access to them. That _ was _ your intention, was it not?”

Crap. He got me.

“Yes.”

“Good. Then it’s settled,” he slightly bows his head to me “A good evening to you.”

After he leaves, I go straight to my room, enter, lock myself inside and place the wyvern on the table.

… 

Goddammit! I’m going to be working with one of the Slitherers? Why, world, just...why?

Do I have to worry about mysteriously disappearing if I tell him the wrong thing, now?

...or worse do I have to worry Solon will do something nefarious and use me as a scapegoat for it?

No, that shouldn’t happen. The only things he does in the game are kidnapping Flayn, with Jeritza taking the fall for it, and causing the events of the Remire chapter, where he reveals himself. And he also has no reason to be interested in me. If I don’t bother him and keep quiet about his group, the events of the game should still happen without me suffering for it.

But...should I? Although Flayn’s kidnapping doesn’t lead to anything negative, except Kronya infiltrating the Monastery, the attack on Remire will cause God knows how many deaths. Should I really sacrifice them to save myself?

I sigh. Who am I kidding? If I talk, it will be my word against ‘Tomas’’. And I bet Seteth and Rhea trust him much more than they do me. And if I alter that event from the game, who knows how much the ones after will be affected? Possibly in ways I can’t predict?

Besides, it will be many months before we get there. Hopefully by the time that comes around, I’ll be long gone.

I doze off with these thoughts in mind.

* * *

It’s only a couple of hours before I hear Alois knocking at my door again.

“Ready and able to to eat?” he asks as soon as I open the door, “Do you _ hunger _ for the dining hall?”

Lame as always, Alois.

“Yes.”

“Good! Follow me!”

The dining hall we enter has a layout similar to its in-game counterpart: various long tables with seats for the various people, with a counter serving dishes on the far side of the room.

I was expecting it to feel bland, but somehow the combination of candlelights and the greater size of this room makes it feel like it’s the Great Hall from the first Harry Potter movie (enchanted ceiling aside).

Several students have already taken their seats, some focusing on consuming their meals, others making small-talk amongst themselves.

Alois and I then proceed to the queue leading up to the counter. Which looks pretty long.

“So, how is dis going to go?” hopefully the wait will feel less long if we keep talking.

“It’s simple: we get to the counter, ask what they have available today and then order your pick,” he glances briefly at the tables “Finding free seats will be a bit of a problem, though.”

No kidding. The more time passes, the more people sit down, and the less free spots for the two of us.

“Alright, so any recommendations for de food?”

“The fish here is simply delicious. One thing I always recommend to new people around here is to try it out at least once,” what are you doing inside Alois’ body, Flayn?

“Anyting wit cheese?”

“Cheese?”

I shrug “I like it.”

“Huh, well it’s not a main ingredient, but I think the Garreg Mach Meat Pie would do nicely for you. It’s one of the few dishes they serve almost every day,” Considering it has ‘Garreg Mach’ in the name, that’s hardly a surprise, “For something more cheese-focused, I’d recommend the Verona Stew or the Gautier Gratin. Although I don’t know if those will be on the menu today,” that’s alright, at least I have somewhere to start.

“Tanks. Anyting you usually like to eat here?”

“Me? Oh, man the Pickled Seafood and Vegetables is a gift from the Goddess herself, let me tell you! I will never be able to thank Shamir enough for introducing me to it!” Shamir did? “It’s such a shame it’s rarely on the menu, though.”

“Why’s dat?”

He sighs at that, “It’s a dish native of Dagda. Very few want to try it.”

For real?

“Animosity towards Dagda is _ dat _ bad?”

“Unfortunately so. The last conflict between them and us was just five years ago. The bad blood hasn’t washed away yet.”

Right. The conflict that, caused the death of Shamir’s partner, her escape to Fódlan, the death of Petra’s father and her subsequent capture by the Empire and being used as a political hostage to prevent future uprisings from Brigid, according to the game,.

...yeah, he’s right. Bad blood and a lot of traumatized or outright broken people. And more will follow in the next five years when Edelgard decides to start her war on the whole continent.

“Anyway…” he continues, “Back to your question, a dish I particularly like that is also served rather frequently is the Fish Sandwich.”

Yeah, let’s not think about what will happen.

“De Fish Sandwich?”

“Yup. Pike served between slices of bread. The bread speaks for itself. As for the fish, well,” he looks out in the direction of the doors, “You’ve seen the pond.”

So I have.

“Well, sandwiches in general are fairly common around my homeland, but I tink it’s de first I’ve heard of one wit fish as de main ingredient.”

“Try it out sometime!” he chuckles “I’m sure you’ll love it!”

It isn’t long after that our turn at the counter comes.

“Good evening, Sir Alois,” the lady serving us greets him

“Good evening to you too, Rebecca!” he greets her back.

“How are Amelia and Ester doing?”

Who?

“Doing fine! Ester has recently started learning how to cook. I’m sure with her mom’s help she’ll learn in no time!”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. Still, have you managed to dissuade her about the other thing?”

Alois’ face falls right after that question.

“Unfortunately no,” he sighs, “I told her the risks of coming here and how much it would cost. Alas, she remains fixated on the idea.”

“I’m sure she only wants to spend more time with her daddy, old friend. Maybe just take her here to visit?”

Wait, are these two they’re talking about Alois’ wife and daughter?

“Uh…” I interrupt, “Should I be hearing this conversation?”

Alois brightens up again at my question, “Nah, no worries Eugenio. It’s all good.”

“Oh!” Rebecca chimes in “A new face at the Monastery, I see.”

“Yup. Rebecca, this is Eugenio, from I…”

“From de County of Gloucester,” I cut him off before he spills the beans.

“Gloucester? Oh, my. Can’t say I blame you for running away from the rulership of that old douche.”

Don’t let Lorenz hear you say that, lady.

“As you may have heard from our common loud friend here, my name’s Rebecca,” she glances at the space behind me “I’d like to chat more, but I’m afraid we’re holding up the line.”

Sure enough, when I turn around there’s a bunch of people that are getting impatient behind us.

“Right,” I gulp.

She smiles, “What can I get you, dears?” she turns to Alois “Fish Sandwich and Peach Sorbet sound good?”

“You know me too well,” the man laughs.

She then turns to me “And what about you, darling?”

“Uh...is dere a…?” I have to look at Alois “What was it? Gautiere Gratin?”

“Yup.”

“Then you’re in luck, darling. We have it today.”

She briefly leaves and then returns with two trays. One has a glass containing some sort of orange mix between ice cream and juice and Alois’ sandwich. The other has meat legs covered by a layer of cheese and a glass with water.

I can feel my mouth watering at the sight of the latter.

“Here you go, dears,” Rebecca says “Enjoy your meals.”

“We will!” is all Alois says before leaving, with me following behind.

It takes a bit for us to find a free spot, but we do eventually find one.

“Sorry about that slip up,” Alois whispers once we’ve sat down.

“It’s ok,” I reassure him “No harm done.”

Hopefully I don’t do the same in the near future.

“Alright!” he continues in his usual tone level “Let’s eat!”

Don’t have to tell me twice, buddy.

As the night creeps closer, the two of us chat about miscellaneous things. Dread still lingers in the back of my mind about my assignment, but thankfully the meal is delicious. And I can take solace in the fact Solon knows nothing about me.

* * *

[TOMAS]

I take one final look around, making sure no one is watching before knocking on the door.

“Yes?” the voice of the Death Knight answers from the other side.

“It’s me.”

For a few moments, silence follows. But then, I hear the door being unlocked and then it is opened, the room’s inhabitant standing in front of me.

No words are exchanged between us, as he knows there is only one reason why I would be here.

As soon as I enter, he locks the door again and then goes to the bookshelf and removes it from the passage. And after that he goes back to his desk. Good dog.

The passage is the same as the last time: narrow and dark. The narrowness is not a problem since I’m alone. And the darkness here is nothing compared to the one I was born into back in Shambhala. At least there is a visible light at the end of this one.

And soon enough I reach the room that light comes from. A hidden chamber beneath the Monastery. A dungeon by the looks of it. Probably made by the accursed Nabateans when they first built this place.

And waiting for me, there is the imperial noble and the student I was expecting. To anyone they would appear as Lord Volkhard von Arundel and Monica von Ochs. But I know better.

“Solon,” Thales greets me.

I bow my head to him, “Lord Thales,” I then turn to the other one, “Kronya.”

“Hello to you too, old old friend,” she chuckles.

Annoying as always.

“Since you are here, I assume everything went according to plan.”

“Yup,” she smiles smugly “Emptied the room, lured the Knights away, and then made my exit. Told you I could do it!”

As unnerving as it is to admit it, she is at the end of the day our best field operative. Not that she needs to hear it, of course.

“What is left of the body will be disposed of immediately,” Thales chimes in, “I expect the Death Knight has been told not to be so clumsy again.”

“He has,” for what little good it did. The only words he ever seems to truly heed are the Flame Emperor’s. And even then, he doesn’t always follow her orders.

“Good. I would hate to have to sacrifice you both to cover our tracks.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Good. Because there is another matter that requires your attention.”

Another matter?

“Is the Hresvelg girl causing you trouble over what happened?”

“No, though I suspect she will once she hears of the details. I’m talking about the Monastery’s new resident.”

The tramp ‘Seteth’ wants me to keep an eye on?

“You’ve heard of him already?”

“_She _ witnessed his meeting with the Knights,” he points at Kronya, who looks insufferably pleased with herself “But first, I’m curious to hear what the official word is.”

The _ official _ word? What does that mean?

“All I know is that the one called ‘Seteth’ came to me. Said one of the Knights brought a refugee from a place called Varholm but his story sounded shaky. He wanted to assign him as my assistant so I could keep an eye on him.”

“And did you accept?”

“Of course. Whatever his true origins are, another pair of hands at the library will give me more time to focus on our objectives.”

“Unfortunately, you will have to actually keep an eye on him.”

“What?”

“Kronya, tell him what you saw.”

“With pleasure,” she briefly smirks at Thales before returning serious, “The Knights didn’t just find him. He literally appeared in front of them.”

“Appeared? Don’t you mean ‘warped’?”

“That’s the thing: it wasn’t Warp magic. He materialized in front of them.”

‘Materialized’? What sort of absurdity is she on about?

“You know the price of lying, Kronya,” I warn her.

“Now, now, Soly - can I still call you Soly?” I glare at her, “Guess not,” she shrugs.

“Anyway, after he did that, the Knights introduced themselves, they had a bit of a chit-chat and then the ‘refugee’ started saying some interesting things,” she smiles coyly “That he comes from a place called Eat-something. That his fellows know this land from stories. That he thought we weren’t real.”

That...shouldn’t be possible. The worshippers of Sothis secluded themselves from the world outside Fódlan. And all of our ancestors retreated underground when the Fell Star ruined Agartha.

“What...is the meaning of this?”

“That is up to you to find out, Solon,” Thales intervenes “I want you to find the truth about where this rodent came from, how he came here, where these ‘stories’ originate from and most importantly how much he actually knows. And if he becomes an obstacle to our plans, I want you to eliminate him. I don’t care if you have to put your cover at risk, he must _ not _ interfere.”

And he will not. Not when our people’s vengeance is so close at hand.

“It will be done, Lord Thales.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was chapter 2. Still nothing much going on yet. Just a chapter consisting of mostly Alois introducing Eugenio to the Monastery. I hope no one minds the additions I made to the Monastery.
> 
> Special thanks to LowerBlack, 16th-Beat and everyone else from the TreeHouse discord server.
> 
> Again, if you're interested, join us on the server! Code: 9XG3U7a. You can also find links to everyone's fics there.
> 
> Happy new year and see you in 2020!


	3. Chapter 3-A New Day

It’s pretty late in the night when I finally manage to get back to my room and lay in my new bed. The mattress feels rougher than what I’m used to, but right now I don’t care.

I’m sure Alois means well, but once he starts talking, it's quite an undertaking making him stop. Fortunately, he mostly talked about his life experiences here at the Monastery and as a Knight of Seiros and I could give vague enough answers to his questions about mine while he went on. The most he got out of me was my new appointment. Which surprised him at first but then he just rolled with it once I explained Seteth’s train of thought.

Well, with that my first day here is officially over. Now it’s onwards to taking care of books, helping students find the textbooks they’re looking for and trying not to tip Solon off.

I gulp at that last thought.

Well, if Edelgard arrives in about two weeks from now, as Alois said, that probably leaves out leaving before the plot starts. So how much time do I have before shit gets real?

The next month will be Kostas (or whatever the guy was called) and his goons attacking the students and then the mock battle amongst Houses. The mock battle is not a problem and I’m pretty sure the bandits aren’t stupid enough to attack the Monastery directly.

The two following chapters take place outside Garreg Mach, the one after in an area of the Monastery where I think I’m not supposed to be in the first place, and the one after is also outside of Garreg Mach.

Then comes the chapter where Flayn is kidnapped, which is the one where Byleth meets the Flame Emperor theoretically for the first time. And since it’s later revealed Solon had a hand in Flayn’s kidnapping, it’s also very likely that’s when things will get dangerous for me.

So that makes it...five or six months to find a way home. Not a lot. Shit.

Alright, so that’s how much time I have. But where do I begin?

Three Houses is still a Fire Emblem game, and when it comes to interdimensional travel, the only Fire Emblem games that dealt with it are...Blazing Blade, Awakening and Fates.

Considering the crap worldbuilding Fates got, I think I can ignore that game altogether.

As for the other two…

The Dragon’s Gate in Blazing was built by the dragons to escape the Ending Winter and could only be activated by those same dragons. Which was why Nergal needed Ninian and Nils.

And the Outrealm Gate in Awakening was used by the Shepherds to travel to the maps of the DLCs, with one of the Annas overseeing it.

…

God-fucking-dammit!

Anna!

How did I not think about her first?

In recent years, it has become an all but confirmed fact that she and her clone-sisters travel among different worlds. If there’s someone I can assume knows about interdimensional travels, it’s the one from this game!

...or the one_ s _ from this game? There’s the one that runs an inn in one of Catherine’s supports, one that is a bookseller in one of Ashe’s, the one that is an actual merchant in the game, the one Byleth can recruit with the DLC…

Wait, when was it that she could be recruited? Was it after chapter three? Before? And are all those actually different Annas or some are one and the same and I’m assuming otherwise?

No, that doesn’t matter. The important thing is finding one of them and ask about how they travel to and from this world.

But...how do I go about it? I’m pretty sure they like to keep secrecy about it, so just walking up to them and ask is a no. But can I even convince one of them to talk with me in private?

Ok, let’s keep the Anna option aside for now. The Gates from the other games were created and/or used by dragons. Which, in this setting, it’s Rhea and her people. So, by the assumption they would be the ones to build such a place, this world’s equivalent should be in Zanado, which, if I recall correctly from the game, isn’t too far from the Monastery. So all I’d need to get there is asking for directions.

The problem is, with Rhea actively trying to hide the existence of her people, any question I make about the Red Canyon will undoubtedly attract her attention, as well as Seteth’s and Solon’s. Not to mention me wanting to go to a place with no sign of living civilization would raise anyone’s eyebrows.

Well...Seteth did say Garreg Mach’s library is the best in all of Fódlan. I guess that if any text about Zanado still exists, it would be in the one place Rhea could always have access to. And if Claude was lucky enough to find information about her draconic form, maybe I’ll be lucky too.

I yawn after that.

Well, no sense in pondering about it while I have yet to get to the library. And who knows? Maybe when I wake up I’ll be in my room and find out this was all just some weird-ass dream. Unlikely at this point, but one never knows.

With those thoughts in mind, I close my eyes as sleep slowly claims me.

* * *

To the surprise of no one but dumb old me, the room I woke up in this morning was the one in the Monastery. Which means this is no dream and I really have six month to get the hell out of here.

Predictable, but still...damn it.

Not much else to say. After that cheerful line of thought I put my room back in order and waited a bit for whoever Seteth sent to lead me to the library and, when no one came, I just went to the dining hall for breakfast.

There’s fewer people here compared to last evening, both sitting at the tables and at the queue to the counter. If you can even call four people tops a ‘queue’.

Most of the people sitting around are faces I recognize neither from yesterday nor from the game. The only exception is a kid eating by himself near the end of one of the tables most distant from where I am, dark skinned with black hair and a tunic similar to mine. I have a slight feeling that’s the little shit that didn’t shut up about Rhea in the game.

Well, he wants to stay alone and I don’t want my ears to bleed from hearing ‘Lady Rhea’ too many times. Win-win for the both of us.

Of course, since Alois isn’t here I’ll also be eating by myself.

Meh, I’ll just pick something up, go back to my room and eat there while I wait.

“Well, look who it is.”

Or maybe not.

I turn around and am immediately met by the sight of the woman that said that. The same woman that was about to skewer me with her magical bone-sword a couple of times yesterday.

“Oh, Caterine,” I frantically greet her, “You’re back! How did your mission go?”

“Poorly,” she sighs, “No sign whatsoever of who we were looking for.”

“Monica, was it? A student dat went missing?”

“More like suddenly left without a trace,” she shrugs, “No idea whether it was of her own free will or not.”

Spoilers: it wasn’t.

“Probably the former, Catherine,” a new voice intervenes, “I doubt anyone would go through all the trouble of infiltrating this place just to kidnap one girl.”

Oh, you’re so very wrong, miss…

When I lay eyes upon who’s talking, I’m surprised they don’t jump out of my sockets. Elegant green jacket, stunning black dress, majestic dark blue hair, bored but beautiful purple eyes…

It’s her! My waifu from this game! Shamir!

“You can stop staring at any moment.”

I blink at hearing that.

“Uh...what?”

“The last thing anyone here wants is having to clean up your drool,” Shamir deadpans.

I feel the heat coming to my cheeks almost immediately, with some background snickers coming from Catherine.

Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, blondie.

“Anyway,” the Knight says once she’s recomposed herself “This here’s Shamir, my partner among the Knights of Seiros.”

A partner with whom you can get _ very _ close to, according to the support between you two, Catherine.

“Greetings,” I say as I offer my hand to the archer.

“Hello,” she neutrally replies, ignoring my hand altogether.

Great. Good job giving a bad first impression, me.

“We’ve met Alois on our way here, by the way,” Catherine goes on “He gave us the rundown. Varholm Village, huh?”

Was that the name? I think it was.

“Yeah, I tink dat was de place.”

“If you’re going to convince anyone, that is not the kind of answer you should be giving,” Shamir admonishes me.

“Bluntly put,” Catherine adds “But yeah, things like ‘I think’ will undermine your credibility in the long run.”

First I come off as a drooling buffoon and now as an inept. Good job me times two.

Wait, why is Shamir aware of that?

“Huh,” I tell Catherine “Alois did tell you not to…?”

“Tell anyone where you came from? Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry.”

“I only know because she told me before that,” oh! “Your secret is safe with me,” she then nundges her head towards Catherine “With her? I’m not so sure.”

“Oh, come on, partner!”

I have to suppress my own snickering at that.

“Speaking of Alois, dough,” I continue “Where was he going?”

“Out of the gates,” what? “Knowing him, he was probably gonna do his morning exercises.”

Don’t tell me…

“By ‘morning exercises’ you mean ‘running down and back up dis hill’?”

“Yup. I see you got the type.”

I shiver at the thought of yesterday’s climb.

“More like he told me dat’s an exercise from his days as a recruit he still partakes in. It sounded like his old boss was a slave-driver.”

Catherine chuckles at that, “Believe it or not, that’s actually standard training in the Kingdom. And, according to rumors, Captain Jeralt - his ‘old boss’ - was from the Kingdom.”

Good thing I don’t have to pass for a Kingdom citizen then.

“Excuse me,” a new voice chimes in.

When I turn I am met by the sight of the boy from earlier. And at this range, I manage to see his orange eyes and the unmistakable scar on the right side of his forehead.

“Cyril,” Shamir greets him, “If this is about yesterday’s lesson…”

“No, it’s not that, Shamir. I just overheard something about Varholm,” he then turns to me “Are you the one called Hugenio?”

“Eugenio,” I correct him, “Do you need someting from me?”

I have no idea why he would though. In the game he focused solely on doing his jobs and did not stop for small-talk.

“Not exactly. Seteth told me I was to take you to the library.”

Unless I’m part of one of his jobs.

First Solon and now this? I’m starting to hate you, Seteth.

Well, hopefully I won’t have to interact with him any more than necessary after today.

“Wait, so Alois was serious?” Catherine comments, “The library?”

I shrug “Setet seems to tink I’m quallified for dat,” I turn to Cyril, “I don’t suppose I have de time to pick up breakfast?”

“I’m afraid not. The library will open shortly. You should have come earlier if you wanted to have breakfast.”

Aren’t you a joy to be around, kid?

“Well,” I sigh at the two Knights “Duty calls it seems. I’ll see you two around.”

“Right back at you,” Catherine smiles at me.

“See you,” Shamir adds.

With that said, Cyril gestures me to follow him and we head away from the dining hall.

I can already tell skipping breakfast is really going to suck.

Oh well, guess I’ll have to just endure until lunch break.

...there is a lunch break, right?

* * *

We proceed to the library in silence. Cyril doesn’t make any effort to start a conversation and since I don’t want to hear one of his speeches about Rhea, neither do I.

Fortunately we arrive at the library fairly quickly.

“Here it is,” he states as we come across the entrance “Think you’ll remember your way here?”

Sassy, are we?

“I will,” I reply “Anyting else I should know about dis place?”

“Sorry, can’t help ya there. I only come here to clean up.”

“And what can you tell me about de librarian?”

“Not much either,” he shrugs, “I’ve been here for little more than a year and I’ve interacted with him very little. Everyone who knew him from before says he’s a nice fellow, though.”

“From before?”

“They say seven years ago he went into retirement. He returned this year after his predecessor suddenly died.”

He what?

“Died? How?”

“No idea. One night he was fine and the day after they found him dead in his bed just like that. Like his heart stopped beating while he was sleeping.”

A mysterious death that resulted into ‘Tomas’ getting his job back? I have a slight idea of who might be responsible for that.

“Well, tanks for dat information, boy,”

“You’re welcome,” he replies, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got lots of other places to be.”

He turns away and leaves right after saying that.

Well, here I am. About to work with a sadist perfectly fine with people dying horribly around him (and because of him) and willing to chuckle at the idea of someone suffering a fate worse than death.

…

Fuck, what was I even thinking when I agreed to this? What do I do if I slip up like I did with Catherine and Shamir? What if I end up contradicting myself? What if…?

“Excuse me?”

I turn and see a trio of students standing by the library’s entrance.

Or rather, by me.

“May we enter?”

“Of course,” I stand aside and make way for them “My apologies.”

The three then proceed without another word.

I sigh. Standing here pondering what ifs isn’t going to help, is it?

Hesitantly, I proceed inside as well.

And my jaw falls wide open as soon as I enter.

After yesterday’s tour with Alois I _ was _ expecting this place to be larger than the game made it look, but not _ this _ large. At least three halls (the one I’m in and another one on each side) with the walls lined with massive bookshelves filled to the brim with books, the ceiling going so high there could be a second floor above us, a candelabrum dangling from it, the whole place cleaner than I’d ever expected any library to look like…I’m honestly beginning to wonder if this isn’t the one from the Beauty and the Beast animated movie.

Surprisingly though, the only people here are the three students that came in earlier and a hunched man they’re talking with. Shouldn’t there be more people in a place this large if they’re only a week away from their final tests?

Wait a moment, a hunched man?

I turn back to him. Graying hair, ash and brown colored robe with absurdly large sleeves and a cane.

Yes, it’s ‘Tomas’.

Well, here goes nothing I guess.

I approach him and, as he finishes talking with the students, I stir his attention my way.

“Greetings. Are you Tomas?”

He turns to me, a surprisingly warm smile plastered on his wrinkled face.

“Indeed,” his smile widens. Either it comes with the disguise or Solon is pretty good at pretending to be jovial “And you’re Eugenio, I presume?”

“Yes, I am,” I offer him a hand. Gotta keep up appearances, right? “Pleased to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” he shakes my hand, his grip surprisingly strong for an old cripple. I suppose he’s going to need it for when he’ll literally shatter Kronya’s heart with that very hand.

...yeah, no. Let’s...try to avoid freaking out in front of him.

“I assume Seteth has told you a little of what work here entails, yes?” he asks.

“Not much, I’m afraid,” I concede “I take it most of it consists of keeping the books in order?”

He chuckles amicably. Goddammit, how does he manage to sound so genuine?

“That would be the start of it, yes. But there’s more to it than that, obviously.”

“Yeah, we also have to provide de students de text dey may search and make sure dey are returned on time.”

“Indeed. Although you’re leaving out the more bureaucratic elements of it,” Yikes, bureaucracy is never fun “But don’t worry. I can handle those myself. I’ll just need a hand when it comes to picking up tomes. I can count on you for that, yes?”

Huh, that’s it? This might be easier than I would have thought.

“I can do dat, sure. Aldough it will probably take me a bit before I remember de names of all de books kept here.”

“Don’t worry,” he chuckles, “I don’t remember them all either. That’s what the logs at my desk are for.”

Oh…

“However, I think it’s best you first acquaint yourself with the library’s layout. Please follow me, son,” ‘son’? Oh, now you’re overdoing it, “I’ll give you a tour.”

Oh yeah, off to another one. This time with someone I feel as safe with as I would with Darth Vader.

Or is with the Emperor more appropriate? With the whole ‘kind old man’ act and the imperial- Bah, who cares?

* * *

The tour of the library is more monotonous compared to the one with Alois from yesterday. The only thing Solon has to show me are the sections of the library, all dedicated to one specific topic.

Some of them are stuff you’d expect to find in one of our libraries, like art, philosophy and math, and some are stuff you’d expect from a military school in a medieval setting, like tactics, weapon maintenance and alchemy.

But there are also a few that are exclusive to Fódlan specifically: those regarding magic.

Magical theory, reason magic, faith magic…

Considering I won’t be staying here any more than necessary, I probably shouldn’t pay them so much attention. And yet...it’s true that I come from a land where magic doesn’t exist. But does that mean there’s no chance I could…?

Nah, what good would that even do? If I can actually wield it, I’d only be able to use it here, wasting the time I’d spend trying to learn it once I’m back on Earth.

Besides, the section we’re seeing now should be my top priority.

“And this is the history section,” Solon points to the bookshelf in front of us with his cane.

History, huh? So any information available about an Outrealm Gate should be here. Or rather, any information Rhea allows to be available.

“How long ago do de books here go?”

“All the way back to the time when the Liberation King Nemesis was blessed by the Goddess. And we have detailed records of everything that happened from there up to this day.”

But considering who the higher-ups here are, I bet nothing from before that. So, where could I find information about this world’s Outrealm Gate? Zanado is probably not historically relevant and I can’t justify asking about weird historical occurrences. Although…

“Is dere anyting about de Monastery’s history?”

‘Tomas’ turns to me, a curious look in his eyes, “Why do you ask?”

“I tought dat if I am to stay here I should learn all I should know about Garreg Mach. Before I embarrass myself or someone else.”

Or rather, studying the history of the place Rhea built and oversaw for centuries may give me a clue. Far-fetched theory, but I’ve got nothing better to go on at the moment.

“I see,” ‘Tomas’ comments, the smile returning to his face, “A commendable thought,”

“Let me see…” He turns his head to the bookshelf in front of us, “Ah, there it is,” he points to a book with an ash-colored binding on one of the shelves, “I think that one will do.”

The shelf is thankfully not one of the top ones. It’s still too high for Solon to reach it with his hunch but not high enough for me.

The cover reads ‘Garreg Mach: A History Across the Centuries’. Perfect.

“Tank you.”

“You’re most welcome.”

“Excuse me, Sir Tomas,” one of the students, a boy holding a book of his own, interrupts us, “I would like to borrow this.”

“Ah of course. Please follow me,” he turns to me, “You too.”

As we proceed back to his desk, I notice several more students than the three from earlier have arrived. Quite a few of them forming a line to said desk.

Looks like it’s time I get started with my new job.

* * *

The day proceed smoothly for the most part. The students that come to us are all either returning books they borrowed or want to inform us of what they’re taking or are looking for a specific text.

For the most part, all I need to do is stay by ‘Tomas’’ side, except when for the last of those cases, in which case I have to pick up tomes he can’t reach. I have a feeling I’m doing so little actual work because he’s giving me a treatment of favour for my first day here but, hey, I’m not complaining.

However, Alois wasn’t kidding about this being the busiest week of the year. After that initial line the most breathing room we got was a couple minutes between one student and another.

Suffice to say, since I’m constantly by Solon’s side, I don’t get the time to read the book. Hopefully he will let me keep it. There’s no reason for him to say no to that, right?

Of course, the book isn’t my only concern. Another is the sense of emptiness that’s coming to my stomach. All because of that skipped breakfast. Dang it.

Well, complaining about it won’t help. I’ll just have to endure it for now.

After who knows how many hours we finally get a window of respite with no more students coming up. Maybe I’ll be able to start reading. Hopefully with my stomach not being too much of a bitch.

“Well it seems now is a good time for you to take a break.”

What?

“What do you mean?”

“It won’t be long now before the dining hall opens for lunch. If you wish, you can take the tome to your room and then go there.”

Huh, maybe I won’t have to worry about that after all. Or even about the book.

“Can I really keep it?” I ask, just to be sure.

“Of course,” he jovially replies “Just remember that you’ll have to return it sooner or later.”

That will depend on how long it will take me to find what I’m looking for.

“Alright. Are you coming to de hall as well?”

“I’m afraid not. I usually bring my food here so I can keep an eye on the library.”

...okay.

“Well, I’ll be back as soon as possible. Enjoy your lunch.”

“You as well, son.”

After that exchange, I leave the library. Not being around that guy for a bit honestly sounds like a pretty good idea.

When I arrive at the hall, I find it already pretty packed, with several tables already full and a long queue already present.

Looks like you’ll be waiting for me a while, Solon.

I get in line behind a pair of priests and then wait as the queue slowly proceeds forward. And without anyone I’ve talked to around it gets boring pretty quickly.

“Have you heard about the new students from the Kingdom that will arrive next month?”

Which is probably why I decide to listen in on the two priests’ conversation.

“No, what is it?”

“It seems a man from Duscur will join them under the Prince’s recommendations.”

“Duscur? The Prince’s recommendations? You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

That guy has got to be Dedue. The poor guy that had to watch his family and friends be slaughtered for crimes they did not commit and only lived because Dimitri protected him.

“Why in the Goddess’ name would the Prince keep one of the savages responsible for his father’s death around?”

“I have no idea. Maybe some sort of servant he wanted to have educated?”

…

“Seems likely. Though I don’t see why His Highness would have one of those heathens as his servant.”

“Me neither.”

...

“Think we’ll have to worry about him trying to indoctrinate the other students into his barbarian ways?”

“Indoctrinate? I’m more concerned about potential threats and assaults towards the staff.”

…

“Oh, dear. You don’t think he’s a cannibal, do you?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.”

YOU RACIST PIECES OF SHIT!

I need to take a deep breath. The last thing I need is lashing out at these two fucks. But still...

Goddammit, indoctrination? Assault on the staff? Cannibalism? What, now Duscur is the land of boogeymen that kidnap children at night and raise undead abominations? You’re freaking priests of a church! Not the goddamn KKK, you fork-tongued self-entitled…!

“What can I get you, sir?”

...what happened to everyone that was before me?

“Uh...is de meat pie available?” I hastily ask while releasing a fist I didn’t realize I’d clenched.

“Sure is.”

The girl serving me leaves and returns quickly with said pie.

“Enjoy your dish,” she smiles at me.

“Tank you,” I reply before turning away.

Finding a free seat proves as complicated as last evening but fortunately I manage to after a bit. It’s the end of the table and I’m sitting beside students deep in conversation, but still a good enough spot. The pie isn’t as good as the gratin from last evening, but it’s still pretty good.

Unfortunately, it isn’t enough to prevent my mind from going back to what those priests were saying about Dedue. I know the Duscurians were despised in the game because of the Tragedy, but seeing it first hand is just...it hurts. I don’t even dare to imagine how Dedue himself feels about it. Or anyone else that comes from a nation that was at one point or another at war with Fódlan. Like Petra. Or Claude. Or Shamir. Or - heck - even Cyril.

Goddammit this pisspot of a continent.

Being alone with my thoughts doesn’t help much either. God, I wish Alois were here. His company last night at least was good.

I think it’s safe to say that when I leave my stomach has stopped bothering me but my mood has dropped considerably.

* * *

The afternoon in the library passes pretty much as it had in the morning, with only the exception of the fact that fewer students come to ‘Tomas’.

I notice that some students that were still studying here while I left are still in the exact same spot they were occupying earlier. Did they eat something here or did they actually skip lunch? I hope it’s the former. Not eating sure won’t help their studies.

As the hours pass by, the library begins to empty, with more and more of the students leaving.

At first I don’t pay it too much attention, but then Solon says something that takes me by surprise.

“I can take over from here. If you wish, you’re free to go.”

“What?” I ask, “Just like dat?”

“Sure. You’ve been helping me here for the whole day already. Besides, if there is one thing I learned from working here for years, it’s that this is the time when the library is least busy. Perfect to go have a look at that tome, yes?”

I have a feeling he just wants to be left alone to his evil plots. Well, who am I to deny him that?

“Tank you very much, Tomas,” I tell him.

“Don’t mention it,” he chuckles “Have a pleasant afternoon.”

“You too.”

After that exchange, I leave the library. It’s a good thing Solon didn’t talk with me much outside of work-related matters. It should mean I haven’t picked up his interest beyond being his coworker. At least, I hope.

I take a look at the windows. The sun is still up and sunset doesn’t seem close. Which means a few more hours before I have to go to the hall again. What should I do in the meantime?

I could try to find Alois but even if I had an idea of where he is right now, he’s probably busy with his knightly duties and the last thing he needs is me bothering him.

Gardening and fishing are not my thing, I don’t have the money for shopping and the training grounds are of no use to me.

Well...guess I’ll have a look at that book, like Solon said.

As soon as I arrive in front of my room, I unlock the door, enter and then quickly relock it. If there is one thing I detest is being disturbed while I read.

I sit on the bed and open the book. Alright let’s do this.

The first chapter is an introduction that seems to recap the events of the War of Heroes. Stuff I already know from the game. Should I skip it or...?

Yeah, like that time I screwed up an exam with that same line of thought. Not happening with something that’s infinitely more important.

So let’s see...Seiros appeared at a time when Nemesis’ rule over the One Kingdom of Fódlan (really imaginative name, Nems) was falling into chaos because of the Progenitor God’s power corrupting him…her efforts caught the attention of one of Nemesis’ lords in southern Fódlan, Wilhelm Paul Hresvelg…the Four Saints then joined her after receiving the same revelation as her by the Goddess (said revelation being their kin had been killed but that isn’t here for obvious reasons)...Lord Wilhelm then founded the Adrestian Empire, with his top soldiers forming the Order of the Crimson Dawn…

Wait, what?

I reread that last passage. Apparently Emperor Wilhelm I founded that Order from his elite knights. Paladins that represented the Empire’s strength and justice. And as a symbol of admission into their rank, one of the Saints would share their Crest with them.

Huh, I don’t remember that coming up in the game. Although I suppose Ferdinand, Linhardt and Bernadetta had to come from somewhere other than the Saints themselves since Cichol ended up a widower, Cethleann had to hibernate and Indech went to do…whatever it was he did before that paralogue with Leonie and Linhardt. I wonder if it is known that Macuil never shared his own Crest to begin with…

Well, this proves there are things the game didn’t talk about, but unfortunately it’s no clue to an Outrealm Gate, so let’s go on.

The chapter goes on by talking about the most important battles of the War of Heroes. The only two I recognize from the game are the one at Gronder Field and the one at the Tailtean Plains, but there are a few others.

The one that catches my attention is the one at Ailell. Apparently this was the last battle where Wilhelm ever fought, as he was killed there, along with most of the Crimson Dawn knights. The one moment of the war when Nemesis’ forces managed to briefly regain ground.

Something tells me Rhea doesn’t remember that place fondly.

This is actually interesting. If only there were more lighting, I would have an easier time reading.

…

Wait, when did the light go away?

I turn to my room’s window and instead of the afternoon sky I saw earlier there’s just the dark evening sky.

Shit! How long was I reading?

I jump up from the bed, leave the book on the table and just ran straight for the dining hall.

It had better not be too late for dinner or I’ll be cranky tomorrow!

* * *

Thankfully when I arrive, the hall hasn’t closed yet but judging from the fact that several people have begun leaving and almost no one is being served at the counter, it must mean I’ve made it by the skin of my teeth.

Well, better late than never, right? At least there’ll be less waiting for me this time around.

The one serving dinner is neither Rebecca nor the girl from earlier today, but some other dude that doesn’t talk much aside from asking what I’m taking. Probably just wants to be done and go eat himself, I’d wager.

Well, let’s see if I can find some secluded place for myself. No point looking for Alois since he’s probably gone away by now.

“And then I said ‘Knocking? More like _ klancking _, right?’”

Or maybe not.

Turning to the table from which that came, I find him laughing in front of Catherine and Shamir, with the former groaning and the latter rolling her eyes.

While I’m glad to see him, I’m not sure I want to know what sort of pun he was making.

“Hello dere,” I tell them once I’ve reached their table.

They all turn to me.

“Oh, hey Eugenio,” Alois greets me as I sit next to him, “How’s your first day been?”

“Pretty good, all tings considered,” racist priests aside “What about you three?”

“A relatively boring day all things considered,” Catherine shrugs “Most of it we spent training.”

“Training?” I ask between bites of my meal, “Dat seems someting you’d grow bored of after a few hours.”

“Nah, it’s not,” Alois replies.

“This may sound weird to you, but once you’ve dedicated yourself to a certain lifestyle, training becomes as natural as breathing.”

Bit exaggerated there, Catherine?

“Plus,” Shamir sighs, “If we don’t now, we won’t get a chance for a while. We’ll have to oversee the students’ final tests next week.”

Wait, what?

“_ You _ guys are? Isn’t dat deir professors’ job?”

“Not enough faculty members to watch over ‘em all,” Catherine replies “So we’re joining them.”

Huh…

“Sounds like you’ll be busy,”

“We will.”

“Anyways…” Alois chimes in “How did you find working with Tomas?”

Worrying, considering who the man actually is.

“He’s a nice man,” I lie “But I don’t tink dere’s much else I can say about him at de moment. We didn’t manage to chat much.”

“Well, hopefully you do in the next days,” Alois comments “He was fun to be around back in the day.”

‘Was’?

“Is he not anymore?”

“Not exactly,” Catherine says, “It’s just he’s become a little more...reclusive. I think getting old drained him of the energy he had back then.”

Sounds like Solon isn’t as good of an actor as I gave him credit for.

Wait, how does Catherine remember Tomas? Didn’t she join the Knights after he left?

“So you also knew him, Caterine?”

“Yeah,” she chuckles “Although back then I wasn’t a Knight yet obviously. I graduated the year before he retired.”

Oh right, she was a student here once.

Well, since everyone’s sharing their past with me…

“What about you, Shamir? Were you a student too?”

“No,” she states matter-of-factly “I was born and raised outside of Fódlan. I’m only here to repay a debt to the Archbishop.”

Same as the game. Good, good.

“And you?”

I almost choke on my bite at that question.

“Excuse me?”

“What kind of person were you before coming here? Since you want to know about us, I think it’s only fair that you share as well.”

“That’s actually a good point,” Catherine adds “We haven’t heard anything about you and your homeland yet, have we?”

Aw, shit.

Well, let’s start with things that should still make sense to them

“Well…believe it or not I was a student myself. I studied at a…” Is ‘university’ the proper word here? “Academy like this one.”

Shamir narrows her eyes and Catherine arches an eyebrow.

What?

“No offense,” Catherine comments “But you seem a little old for one studying in a place like this.”

Oh, the irony of such a statement when I’m as old as Mercedes is at this point of time.

“Okay maybe it isn’t _ entirely _ like dis one. De faculties we take on take more dan just one year of studying.”

“Ah, I see. What was it you studied?”

I bet none of them knows what chemistry is. What do I tell them now?

“Was it literature? Ancient myths?”

Oh, literature was my nemesis in high school. But I guess with the idea Seteth has made of me, I can go along with that. Thanks for the save, Alois.

“Yeah, dat one.”

“Is that so?” Catherine asks “Got any of those myths you want to share?”

Uh-oh.

“Uh...let me tink,” I stall, taking a hand to my chin in the most thinking-like pose I can improvise “What’s one you’d like…?”

Ok, I’ll have to make up something from one of the novels I read back home. Preferably a fantasy with a setting similar to this one. But what do I use?

I’m starting to regret never reading the Lord of the Rings. Or the Chronicles of Ice and Fire. Or a long list of other famous fantasy series.

Goddamn did I really read only the Inheritance Cycle when it comes to this genre?

Well, what was that saying again? ‘Beggars can’t be choosers’?

“Well, let me tell you de tale of Eragon de Sapphire Knight…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah that was chapter 3. Not much happening, just Eugenio getting acquainted with his new position at Garreg Mach.
> 
> Aplogies if this chapter didn't come out as fast as the last one, but I had IRL stuff to take care of. For that same IRL stuff you also probably won't see chapter 4 before march.
> 
> Anyways, thanks to LowerBlack and 16th-Beat for betareading. Join us on the TreeHouse discord server, code: 9XG3U7a.
> 
> See you next time!


	4. Chapter 4-The New Daily Life

The following week proceeds in the same manner: I get up from bed, I go to the library to work with ‘Tomas’, I take a break for lunch, I read some more from the book about the Monastery after I’m dismissed and then go to dinner where I chat with Alois and what of his fellows Knights are with him that evening. When those Knights are not Catherine and/or Shamir, it’s mostly folks that are as old as Alois, if not more.

What surprises me, though, is that they are not as many as you’d expect from someone as extroverted as Alois. Not counting Catherine and Shamir, Alois has only introduced me to something like half a dozen of his fellows. I’m tempted to ask him about it one night, but considering the day he gave me the tour of the Monastery his usual jovial self faltered when he spoke of the possibility of the guy organizing the tournaments no longer being around…

Perhaps it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie.

Meanwhile, my research into Garreg Mach’s history proceeds slowly and with little results. If that’s because history was never my favourite subject or because there really is no information regarding an Outrealm Gate in what I’ve gone over so far, I have no idea.

What I was able to find during this week are mainly three things. One. the Knights of the Crimson Dawn that survived the War of Heroes formed the noble houses of the Southern areas of the Adrestian Empire (which, after the schisms with Faerghus and Leicester, make for most of the noble houses of the Empire).

Two, the construction of the Monastery and the founding of the Church of Seiros weren’t as straightforward as the game made it out to be. Apparently it wasn’t until several years after the end of the war with Nemesis that it was proposed and approved. And even then, the project more than once was at risk of stopping.

And three, the deeds of the various Archbishops that ruled the Monastery are basically the only thing that prevented open conflicts among the lords of the Empire. Whenever tensions between nobles rose, it was the Church that quelled them. The only two times they failed were with the War of the Eagle and Lion and the Crescent Moon War.

Oh yeah, and also that there were other Archbishops before Rhea. All rigorously women so far, even though a rule saying that the Archbishop could not be a man was never issued. Which, knowing what I do from the game, means ‘Rhea’ isn’t the first guise Seiros wore after the war. I wonder how she managed to pull off so many changes of identity without ever raising questions, the only way I can see that happening is that she had someone replacing her between one identity and another. However, I don’t think she could ever trust any human with that kind of authority, so that can’t be it.

Unless…

The eleven women that preceded Byleth’s mom...she used _ them _ as intermediaries, didn’t she?

The names of ‘Rhea’’s predecessors don’t tell me anything and the book doesn’t say what they looked like (especially which sported the green hair and eyes combo and which didn’t) but I can see no other way for Rhea to have pulled this off.

Clever overgrown lizard with mommy issues…

I have a look at the window outside. The sun has already set, which, if I’ve learned anything from staying here for a week, should mean dinner time isn’t too far away now.

Well, I guess this is enough making assumptions about Rhea’s past actions and influences on history for the day. Better get to the dining hall.

Nothing much happens on the way there. I simply walk into the hall and get in line like everyone else. The only thing truly noteworthy is who I happen to have in front of me this time around.

I’m tempted to tap her shoulder in order to catch her attention, but I’m pretty sure she’d first break my hand and then everything else. So I simply say: “Hello dere, Shamir,”

“Hello,” she replies without even turning around.

“Who’re you talking to?” Catherine, who I hadn’t originally noticed, says from in front of the archer as she turns around. Upon doing so, her face slightly lights up “Oh, hey there, Eugenio!”

“Hi, Caterine,” I try to look past her and see if I can recognize who’s the one before her but can only see the robes of a priest “Is Alois here tonight?”

“Unfortunately, no,” the swordswoman shrugs, “He left earlier this morning for a mission dealing with bandits near the Alliance-Empire border. Won’t be back for a couple of days.”

That’s disappointing to hear. I grew used to having him around during this week.

“Mind if I join you for dinner, den?” I ask the two.

“No problem,” Catherine replies.

“Do what you will,” Shamir nonchalantly adds.

We wait for our turn at the counter mostly in silence, only Catherine sharing a few words with Shamir once or twice. Even though I asked to dine with them, I’m really not sure what to say to both. Most of what I know of them is personal information from the game and I’m not sure how I could possibly justify knowing about it.

Finally, our turn comes. Catherine is the first to order and takes some sort of cheese-covered stew, at the sight of which my mouth waters. Guess I know what I’m having tonight.

Shamir, on the other hand, just scoffs at it.

“Someting wrong?” I ask her.

“No,” she shakes her head, although her ever so slightly furrowed brow seems to say otherwise, “I just can’t understand how she can stomach that crap.”

“Not this again,” Catherine sighs.

“Blame him,” she nudges her head in my direction “He was the one who wanted to know.”

Thanks a lot, Shamir.

After that little exchange, Shamir orders some sort of sauce-covered pheasant at which Catherine makes a disgusted face. You ladies are as polar opposites in favourite food as in everything else, aren’t you?

When it’s my turn I order the same stew as the one Catherine ordered earlier. I don’t miss the snickers she makes at Shamir rolling her eyes at that. Consider it payback for earlier, beautiful.

After getting our dishes, Catherine makes way for the three of us, ultimately settling on the end of a table near the entrance of the hall. Shamir sits next to her and I in front of the two.

We then start eating without saying much. Catherine gorges herself on her stew with such voracity, I’m surprised she doesn’t choke on it. Shamir, on the other hand, is much more composed, sitting straight the whole time and taking slow and composed bites. Seeing them together, one would be excused for forgetting which is the former noble and which the seasoned mercenary. Not that I can say that out loud, of course.

“Hey, you mind if I ask you something?” Catherine abruptly asks when she’s just about finished with her meal.

“What is dat?”

“I know the Monastery is a big place and you’ve got your duties at the library, but I’ve noticed these days you don’t seem to go around much,” she says that nonchalantly, but in her eyes I can see there’s a hint of...concern? “You don’t happen to stay in your room the whole time, do you?”

Huh...didn’t think she’d be concerned about that.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” I simply reply “In the free time I have, I’ve been there to read a book Tomas lent me,” I lower my voice and lean a bit close to the two Knights, “It’s part of a research I’m making to see if I can find a way back to my homeland.”

“I see,” Catherine comments, while Shamir just keeps eating her meal, “But are you sure it’s healthy for you? Staying locked up there, I mean.”

I almost ask her if she wouldn’t want to find a way back to her homeland if she were lost like me, but thankfully I remember in time that’s exactly the kind of situation she’s in, with the whole ‘framed for the Tragedy of Duscur’ thing.

“What do you mean?” I instead opt to ask, “I don’t tink I’m doing anyting particularly unhealty.”

“Yeah, but the way you’re saying it, it sounds like your days are just being work, work and more work,” so? “Don’t you think you could use a hobby or something?”

I shake my head at that, “Can’t. Sorry.”

She arches an eyebrow at my reply, “Why not?”

_ ‘Because there’s a war coming soon and I don’t want to be around when it begins’ _ is what I want to say.

“Too busy with de library for de majority of de day,” is what I actually say, “De few hours between de end of my turn and dinner is de only time I have to read.”

“Foolish.”

Catherine and I both turn to Shamir, who has not raised her head from her plate even to say that.

“What?”

“You’re taking a foolish approach to this,” she explains, her gaze still on her meal, “If you put your body only through work, you will never be able to accomplish anything you seek to,” she slightly raises her head, enough for her furrowed eyes to point at me, “One thing I’ve learned in my years as a mercenary is that if you don’t tighten your bow enough, it won’t work. But if you tighten it too much, it will snap.”

...why is it everywhere I go someone ends up giving me one of these speeches? And since when has she taken an interest in me? I thought she was still salty about the other day.

“I…” I hesitate, not sure what to tell her “I tank you. I…” should I say it? “I didn’t tink you’d care.”

“I don’t,” Shamir’s eyes go back to her meal “But idiots who don’t know how to take care of themselves give me indigestion.”

Oh…

“Well...” Catherine clears her throat, her gaze going between Shamir and me “Now that we’re in agreement on _ that _,” she focuses solely on me “I think the next weeks should be less busy than this one. I’m sure Tomas won’t mind if you bring something to read.”

So long as Solon doesn’t get interested in what it is I read. Although I’m not quite sure what I could actually do in my free time. Most of my old hobbies involved electronic devices, and there’s no way Fódlan has those.

I turn to Catherine, “Any activity you’d recommend me to do?”

Catherine opens her mouth but then hesitates to speak as her face goes blank “Any hobby you had back home?”

Great. How do I answer that?

“Well…one ting I liked to do in my free time was going out for walks during sunny days,” something I unfortunately grew to do less and less frequently in the last years, “Aldough I’m not sure dat’s someting I can do in dis Monastery without it growing repetitive quickly.”

“Big city type, is that it?” Catherine teases.

“I guess,” I shrug, “I lived in what is arguably de second biggest city in de whole country.”

“Well, I’ll be,” the Knight chuckles “Any other hobbies then?”

I rub my chin in thought. There is _ one _ other activity I liked to do that I _ can _ explain to them. The question is, should I? If I phrase it incorrectly, the two of them might think I’m more dangerous than I’m letting on. But what else can I tell them then?

“Would you believe me if I said I practiced karate?” I ultimately ask.

For a moment - just a moment - Shamir stops eating and I think I see her arching an eyebrow. Catherine, for her part, looks downright dumbfounded.

“You practiced what?”

“Karate,” I repeat, “It’s a form of…” how should I put it? “Hand-to-hand combat. I started practicing it about a decade ago as a means of self-defense.”

Now Shamir has actually raised her head fully and Catherine has put her elbows on the table in a pensive pose that matches her scrutinizing look. Goddammit, when will I learn to shut up?

“Interesting,” the swordswoman comments, although she doesn’t sound as antagonistic as I first thought “Tell me more of this ‘Karate’.”

Huh...ok?

“Karate is an ancient technique meant for self-defense and dat of oders,” the two Knights don’t react any more than they already have, “Aldough it focuses mostly on attacks using open hands and kicks, dere are some forms dat incorporate some types of melee weapons and…”

“What sort of weapons?” Catherine cuts me off.

What does that even matter?

“De same kind of weapons used in similar disciplines. Katanas, sais, bos…”

“Sais?” Catherine interrupts me yet again, this time sounding confused, “What are those?”

“And since when bows are ‘melee’ weapons?” Shamir asks indignantly.

“What?” I ask dumbfounded, not understanding the archer’s statement right away “Ok, first of all, it’s _ bos _ not _ bows _. Dose are combat staves.”

“I see,” Shamir replies, her tone returning neutral and her face remaining overall stony as ever, even though I think I can see a hint of annoyance in her eyes “Apologies for the misunderstanding.”

“No worries,” I tell her before turning to Catherine, who still has a look of confusion in her eyes “As for sais, well…” feels weird that I never thought before of a good way to describe them, “De best way I can describe dem is a tree-pointed knife. De middle one considerably longer dan de oder two.”

“I see,” I swear her eyes are glowing. And I’m not sure that’s a good sign. Especially since Shamir is also eyeing her with worry, “Were you good at it?”

Brown belt, but that’s as far as I got. Not bad, but I don’t think that’s anything special. Especially considering I never actually got involved into tournaments or any sort of competition.

“With de teoretical side of it, I was,” I concede “But I’ve never actually had a reason to test my fighting capabilities.”

“Well…” Catherine’s arms lower, the widest grin I’ve ever seen on her face and a sinister glint in her eyes. Beside her, Shamir is rubbing the bridge of her nose. What sort of trouble am I in now? “I think you’ve just found one.”

The fuck did she just say? “Wh…” I stutter, “Wh...what?”

“Tomorrow is Sunday, right?” I nod, “Well, here’s what you’ll do: you’ll ask Tomas for a free day. After that…” she points her right index at me “You,” she then points at herself “Me,” she then points outside the hall “The Knight’s training grounds.”

Oh, so she just wants to spar with me? That’s a relief.

…

NO, WAIT, WHAT?

“Che diavolo hai appena detto!?” I all but shout.

“What?” the two Knights ask. Catherine looks downright dumbfounded by my outburst while Shamir has narrowed her eyes at me. And, to my discomfort, I notice other people sitting near the three of us have turned their attention to me. Great job, me.

I clear my throat in an attempt to recompose myself, “Sorry, dat was out of line,” I say loud enough to be heard by the onlookers, who promptly turn away their gazes at hearing that. Dodged a bullet there.

“Nice save there,” Catherine comments with a snicker. Glad to hear it, blondie.

Shamir, however, is much less appreciative.

“What was that?” she hisses, a scolding glare aimed straight at me.

“Dat was…” I try to say under that glare of hers “My native language. I apologize, I didn’t mean to slip up like dat.”  
  
“You can not afford to be so careless,” the archer rebukes, “You want to keep your secrets? Be mindful of everything you say and do. And I mean _ everything _.”

I gulp at that.

“Oh, cut him some slack, Shamir!” Catherine intervenes “He’s still new to this, remember?”

Shamir groans and closes her eyes but says nothing more.

“Anyway,” Catherine continues “What was that thing you said?”

Yeah, it’s best tol move on “I said ‘what de hell did you just say?’. No offense, but I’ve told you I’m not a practiced fighter.”

“Ah, right,” she recomposes herself, “Well, be that as it may,” she inclines her neck to both shoulders and the muscles audibly crack “I’m intrigued by this form of combat you know. My way is primarily that of the sword, but I also go for ‘hand-to-hand’ when it’s needed. I’m always open to learning new tricks,” her smile becomes smug “And what better way to learn than through battle?”

I’m so in over my head right now...

“You’re not…” I try to say, “Really considering dis...are you?”

“She is,” Shamir sighs, her hand back to massaging the bridge of her nose. Great.

“Don’t you worry,” Catherine replies in what seems meant as a comforting tone, “I promise I’ll go easy on you.”

My Master ‘going easy on me’ hurt just the same, blondie. Still, refusing at this point will only raise suspicions, won’t it?

“I’ll talk wit Tomas about it,” I concede, “When do we meet if he agrees?”

“Wait for me at the barracks,” she replies, the smug smile never leaving her face, “I’ll find you.”

Hopefully Solon will say my work is too important for me to take a free day.

* * *

“Training with Catherine? Now, that’s something I never would have expected from you,” is the first thing Solon says after I make my request, “What brought this about?” he asks, rubbing his chin while keeping up that fake amicable smile of his.

“In short, I let it slip dat I know a bit of combat,” definitely not gonna mention Karate to one who doesn’t know of my origins, especially one of the Slitherers, “Apparently, dat was enough for her to want to spar wit me.”

To my surprise, his smile falters at hearing that, his eyes taking an inquisitive look as he proceeds to inspect me from top to bottom. I have absolutely no idea why he’s doing it though. Nothing of what I said should have stirred this kind of reaction. So why is he…?

“I’m surprised to hear that,” he suddenly comments, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed what kind of person she is, but she’s only ever challenged like this people she deemed worthy warriors,” his smile returns to his face, “I think she sees...potential in you.”

Doubtful if she really just wants to see what karate is like. And even if that were the case, I think any potential she’d see in me would evaporate upon learning of my asthma.

Not that the love child of Gharnef and Izuka needs to know that, of course.

“If she asks me to be her squire, I’ll have to decline,” I tell Solon as matter of factly as I can, “I don’t tink I have what it takes to be a Knight. Besides, I find working here is more enjoyable dan having to march to de fardest ends of de land.”

He chuckles at hearing that “If only more youths felt like that,” he briefly clears his throat before recomposing himself, “In any case, the day is all yours, son,” not the answer I was hoping for…“Good luck and let me know how it goes,” oh you’ll be the first to know if I end up in the infirmary.

“Sure ting,” I reply, “I’ll see you tomorrow, den.”

“Of course,” he says “Oh, and one last thing: during the next days, the library will be less busy than it has so far. Feel free to bring the tome if you wish.”

Will probably do. Mostly to make this research go faster. Every day I stay here is another day closer to the events of the game.

“Understood. Tank you,” is all I say before leaving the library.

I swallow as I head to the barracks. That _ definitely _ didn’t go as I’d hoped. And now it’s me against a lady that besides being more muscular than me and having been taught how to fight since childhood also possesses a Major Crest. Odds that truly do not favor me.

Well, I guess I’ll just have to lie in the bed I’ve made now. So let’s see...what are weaknesses of hers I can exploit? Her base class in the game is Swordmaster, whose gimmick is usually ‘dodge, crit, double’. They don’t have particularly good defenses, but they don’t need them if they can just keep dodging.

Of course, those are their stats in the game. How that applies to the real thing, I have no way of knowing. For all I know, Catherine could be so tough she can easily shrug off any hit I manage to land. Which is even more likely when you take into account her armor.

...oh god, she’s not going to fight me in full armor, is she? That’ll hurt at least ten times more.

* * *

Saying that getting used to staying in a medieval monastery is weird would be like saying that boiled water is hot. But when one adds flying horses and crocodiles to the mix, it becomes an understatement.

Even though it’s been a week, the sight of Pegasi and Wyverns still surprises me. It may be the fact I haven’t had reasons to come to the barracks before and have only seen them fly over the Monastery from a distance, but I don’t think seeing them more often than I have would have changed much. And I wonder what it’d feel like to actually be face-to-face with one of them.

Well, that’s one of the things I probably won’t find out if I manage to leave before Edelgard’s attack on Garreg Mach. I can live with that.

After witnessing another Pegasus Knight take off from the ‘nest’, I head straight for the entrance of the barracks. Several Knights are wandering outside the place and some them glance in my direction as I pass, but none stop me. Good, that means I don’t stand out from the rest.

After entering, I quickly notice that there are way fewer people inside than outside. Just one of them reading a book by his lonesome and two more playing some sort of board game. All of them passing the time doing things they like. All of them going through their routines.

I fail to keep a sigh. Enjoy these moments, all of you. They’ll come to an end sooner than you could possibly think.

“Ahem.”

I turn in the direction of the new voice and come face to face with a stern-looking giant of a man, wearing a set of pristinely white heavy armor. His dark green eyes are set into a scowl that feels like it could cut through steel, while his face is marred by several scars. That plus the balding head and the groomed light gray beard seems to imply he’s a veteran of quite a few battles. With the badge he has on his collar, I’m assuming most of them were in the Church’s name.

I’m not going to lie, he looks pretty intimidating. I hope he’s not some sort of trouble-maker.

“Are you looking for someone, boy?” he asks, his voice sounding neutral but with a hint of gruffness to it.

“I...was supposed to meet with Lady Caterine,” I tell him, trying to sound as calm as I can, “Where can I find her, Sir…?”

“Captain Friedrich,” this guy is the man in charge of the Knights? “And she should be in our training grounds at the moment,” he then raises an arm and points to something behind me, “Third corridor on the right.”

Turning where he’s pointing, I manage to get a glimpse of a doorway and some sort of open space beyond it, “Tank you,” I tell him.

He merely snorts while massaging his neck and walks away. A really charming fellow, that guy. Well, at least Alois said he’ll retire soon, so I probably won’t see much of him again. That is, of course, if I don’t leave before him.

I head towards the direction Friedrich showed me and arrive at an area that looks exactly like the other training grounds, only this one does not have as large of a crowd as the other one.

At the center, I notice three people, two of which seem to be punching and kicking each other, with the third standing at the sidelines watching. It takes me a moment, but I manage to recognize one of the two fighting as Catherine. She couldn’t wait to go through a fight, could she?

A little more distant from the trio, I manage to catch sight of Shamir as well, bow in hand and gaze focused towards a dummy that is...actually quite a distance from her.

She notches an arrow.

She’s not actually gonna try to hit it from so far away, right?

She releases it.

The arrow hits the target in the head.

Shamir’s face betrays no reaction to that result and she merely proceeds to notch more arrows. All of which result in headshots.

I’m...amazed. I didn’t think it was actually possible to hit targets with such precision even from so many meters away.

“Hey, you made it!” Catherine’s voice startles me from my observation.

I turn in her direction and see she has pinned the other Knight down to the ground with a headlock. And from the looks of it, he’s not having a fun time. And soon I’ll be in his place. Yay…

“Oh, hello Eugenio!” the other guy greets me. And only now I recognize who he is.

Stephan. The organizer of the tournaments for the students. One of Alois’ friends I met during this week. One I unfortunately didn’t manage to chat with much. The only thing I found out about him that didn’t come from Alois earlier is that he has a limp in his right leg and that said limp forced him to quit field duty and stay as a guard at the Monastery. It didn’t seem to bother him too much, but I have a feeling he’s just putting up a brave face.

“Hello, Stephan,” I greet back before turning to the other two, “And hello Catherine and...” I trail off as I fail to recognize the other guy’s face.

The blonde Knight lets him go right after and he immediately gasps for air “Justin,” he says between heavy breaths, “I swear...next time...I’ll get you!” he then tells Catherine, ignoring me entirely.

The blonde Knight just chuckles at that, “You keep saying that, but I still have to actually see it.”

“I’ll do it! Just you watch!”

Catherine keeps chuckling as her fuming comrade storms away.

“Never change, Justin,” Stephan mutters while shaking his head.

“So…” Catherine says once she’s done laughing, her gaze fixated on me “You ready for this?”

“As ready as I can be,” I reply with a shrug, “I warned you I’ve never been in an actual fight.”

That apparently takes Stephan by surprise, “Is that so, Cat?”

“Don’t worry,” she reassures him, “I know what I’m doing.”

“Like the last time with that recruit whose knee you dislocated?”

She what?

Catherine blushes at that remark, “That...was an accident in the heat of the moment.”

Stephan gives her an unamused look.

Oh, I feel so much safer now…

“Anyway…” she trails off, “Can you get him some equipment? He’s gonna need it.”

“Oh, we will,” the older Knight replies, a smug smirk coming to his face as Catherine blushes some more, “Come on, Eugenio,” he then tells me, “Let’s get you geared up.”

This is going to go so badly...

* * *

The gear Stephan has me wear is mostly a set of leather protections for my weak spots, like my chest, my head, my joints and my manhood.

“Is all of dis…” I tentatively ask the Knight “Really necessary?”

Stephan sighs at my question, “I’d like to say that you don’t really have to worry about it. But that’d be a lie. You never know what could happen during a battle.”

“Especially with Caterine?”

He snickers at that, “Indeed,”

After that little exchange, we walk back into the training grounds, where Catherine is frantically walking back and forth. I notice that she’s removed a few pieces of her armor, mainly her gauntlets and sabatons, leaving her bare-handed and with only boots on her feet. Granted, they look like pretty sturdy boots so she can still literally kick my ass easily.

“About damn time,” she comments as soon as she notices me, “Ready?”

“As ready as I can be,” I sigh.

I walk in front of her, mentally preparing myself. As I do so, I try to size her up.

Besides her more than evident muscles, she also has the advantage of being taller, and thus has a longer reach than me, and if she does have the speed of her game counterpart, I have no way to assess it at the moment. The entirety of her chest is protected by her breastplate (one of the pieces of armor she hasn’t taken off), so that’s an area I’d best avoid. As for her legs…

Her knees are armored as well. But if I could apply the proper pressure on the right spots of her body…

“Does this ‘karate’ of yours involve any sort of formal salute before a match?”

Catherine’s question stirs me back to reality, “Just dis one,” I reply as I pull together my legs and make the proper bow.

“Alright,” she comments as she simply lowers her head to me. Crude, but whatever. It’s not like this will become a regular thing for either of us. At least, I hope.

“Let’s begin,” she then says while cracking her knuckles.

I take a step forward and then assume the proper stance: one arm in front of me, the other’s elbow by my side, bent knees to steady myself, eyes on my opponent.

For the first few minutes, neither of us really does anything. I keep my position while Catherine casually circles me, taking no stance of her own while her eyes stay fixated on me. I’m not sure what she’s trying to find. Perhaps she’s waiting for my first attack. Or perhaps she’s looking for weaknesses in my posture she can exploit.

If it’s the latter, I’m in trouble. My Master always said I made the mistake of not staying planted to the ground enough. It won’t take anything for a seasoned warrior to figure that out. If I don’t want to be overwhelmed immediately, I have to take action. But how can I hope to surprise her?

Perhaps a feint could do the trick. Yes, a feint attack with my arm, then attack for real with a chop using the other. If I time it right and aim for the neck or the head, I should be able to stun her. Very briefly, but perhaps enough to use her mass against her.

With the plan of attack ready, I proceed with the feint.

“Aaaaargh!”

And then proceed to scream like a little bitch when Catherine takes hold of my fist and starts crushing it.

“Too slow,” she comments before letting go of my hand, “Anyone could have seen that coming.”

“In my defense,” I reply while trying to massage my hand. God, I hope nothing’s broken “Dat was just a feint.”

“Oh, I know,” What? “You were hoping to aim for the head, weren’t you?” How the…?

“A few tips that could help you. One, don’t take too long to take action. I held back, but another opponent may not.”

But if I just charge wouldn’t I…?

“Two, don’t show your opponent what ideas are going through your head. If they can predict your next moves, you’re doomed.”

But I didn’t…

“And three, don’t think about what you’re doing. Just do it. Having your mind focused on something other than the battle you’re fighting is the worst mistake you could do.”

…

“Now, let’s try this again,” she finishes as she takes a couple steps back, “Attack me again.”

…‘just do it’, is that it?

Ok, let’s try it.

As fast as I can, I charge at her, trying to distract her attention with a flurry of weak attacks aimed at her head. Unsurprisingly, she’s able to either parry or dodge them easily, giving no ground. But her head is not my real target.

Once I feel I’ve kept up the barrage long enough, I raise a leg and prepare to hit her knee.

That kick never lands. Before I can attack, my breath leaves my lungs as something strikes at my abdomen and I fall on my back as a result. It hurts, but not so much that I can’t move. I guess the leather armor did its job.

“What de heck…?” I groan as I try to stand up.

“That’s better,” Catherine comments, one of her elbows stretched out, “But there’s still room for improvement.”

“How...did you…?”

“You kept focusing on attacking my head and ignored everything else. It was easy to sneak a surprise attack.”

She...did she even notice I was about to…?

“Now get up. We’re not finished yet.”

Mustering what strength I have in me, I do as she says and take position once again.

Our following bouts proceed in much the same fashion as the previous two. I try a different attack tactic, Catherine easily parries everything I throw at her and then proceeds to knock me down with a single blow I fail to see coming in time. The closest I ever come to giving her trouble is when I manage to grab one of her arms, either out of luck or because she grew careless.

Now, the technique in this case would be to hold the wrist, apply pressure on the elbow with the other hand so the opponent is forced to kneel if they don’t want a broken arm, and not letting your legs within reach of your opponent’s hand. But of course, due to me being a moron, I don’t do those last two so not only Catherine manages to resist, but she also grabs me by one leg and flips me over.

“Damnation,” I mutter after that particular goof.

“Not bad,” is Catherine’s comment as she stretches her arm.

“I would…beg to...differ” I shoot back between heavy breaths. I’m not sure how long we’ve been going, but if my asthma is kicking in it must have been a while.

“Nonsense. For someone with no prior battle experience, you’re not doing so bad,” that doesn’t exactly mean ‘good’, Catherine “Again.”

I rise up from the floor one more time, preparing for another match. Only, it is at this moment that my lungs decide they can’t take any more and I have to start coughing.

“Whoa there!” Catherine exclaims as I double over, air struggling to enter my body.

As I continue to cough, a pair of hands begins to rub my back. The gesture doesn’t stop the coughing fit but it does manage to help me clear my lungs.

“Tank you,” I say between heavy breaths.

“Don’t mention it,” Stephan replies from behind me.

After I manage to suck in enough air, I stand up straight again, coughing a couple more times in the process.

“What just happened?” Catherine asks me.

“Dat…” I reply between breaths and more coughs, “Is a problem...I have...wit my lungs. I can’t...put dem trough too much...oderwhise...dis happens.”

A look of disappointment comes over Catherine’s face as I explain my situation.

“Damn, I’m sorry to hear that,” is what Stephan says “Are you going to be alright?”

“I will,” I say as reassuringly as I can “I just need...to catch...my breat and...I’ll be fine.”

Several more minutes pass before I manage to steady my breath. Stephan doesn’t say or do anything, merely standing and watching. Catherine’s original disappointed look morphs into something that resembles more...concern?

“Ok,” I sigh when I no longer feel my lungs burning from the inside. 

“I have to say,” Catherine comments right after “One with difficulties breathing is the last kind of person I would have expected to take up physical training.”  
  
“It’s not ’difficulties breating’ per se,” I reply “As I said, it only happens if I strain my body.”

“You could have told me, you know.”

“I tought I could handle it. Usually I could do an hour of exercise witout dis happening.”

“I’m afraid we’re well past one hour, Eugenio,” Stephan chimes in “My assessment, if you’ll heed it, is that you do have the potential to be a fighter, but your problem will hinder you significantly in a true fight. Inexperienced thugs, you could probably handle, but anyone with even the smallest amount of training would easily understand the best way to beat you is through wearing you out.”

Nothing I didn’t imagine myself. One of the many reasons I usually avoided picking up fights.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” I reply, “But hopefully I’ll never have to actually fight. I’m not particularly a fan of it and I prefer to stay out of trouble.”

Stephan briefly chuckles at that, “I would argue sometimes it’s trouble that finds you,” please, don’t start with that line of thinking “But I can understand where you’re coming from,” thank you.

“Still, I think you could use some form of physical exercise now and again,” what? “It’d do good to your health. Especially with your defective breathing.”

I don’t like where this is going. Getting too involved with the Knights’ business means getting involved in what will soon happen, which is exactly what I’m trying to avoid.

“What would you have me do?”

“Me? Oh, nothing,” oh, thank goodness, “I’m just saying that if you ever feel the need to do some exercise, you can come looking for me and I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, tanks,” I’ll also not take him up on that offer, but I’m not saying that out loud in front of him, “Anyting else?”

He shrugs at that, “No, that’s all I wanted to say.”

“Very well,” I turn to Catherine “If it’s de same to you, I tink dis is where I take my leave.”

She also shrugs, her face now back to a more neutral expression, “Alright.”

“Come with me, then. Let’s get you changed up,” Stephan comments right after.

The two of us then move away from the training grounds. As we proceed, I take one last look around. No one else has arrived since Catherine and I started sparring. The blonde Knight herself is now heading towards a weapons shelf. Guess now that she’s done beating folks around, she’s gonna practice her sword-arm, huh?

Shamir, however, is now nowhere in sight. Guess she left while I wasn’t looking. Although I suppose I shouldn’t really be surprised, considering the only thing to look at was a moron getting his ass handed to him.

Well, guess this is probably the end of my career as a fighter. I really should be glad these two have seen how poor of a fighter I make, especially since that means less chances for me to get involved in the plot and jeopardize it. And on the one hand, I am.

But on the other...I feel a sense of melancholy coming over me. Which doesn’t make much sense. These bouts went as I expected. Heck they went as I hoped them to. So why am I feeling so...unfulfilled?

Maybe I’m just being sore at them bruises I got. Yes, that has to be it. Definitely not the thought that today I may have failed my Master’s expectations of me. Like I failed my…

Nononono! Bad train of thought brain! Focus on the here and now!

After being dismissed by Stephan and Catherine, I head back to the dormitories and head straight for my room. I spend the rest of the day there, studying the book and leaving only for dinner. Just like any other day at this Monastery before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it. Chapter 4 is here. Another chapter with Eugenio getting acquainted with his life at Garreg Mach (if all goes according to plan this should be the last one). I hope it was worth the wait!
> 
> I would like to say chapter 5 will come sooner, but unfortunately some stuff has come up for me IRL that might complicate getting things done for the next months. I hope you can understand.
> 
> Once more, thanks to LowerBlack and 16th-Beat for betareading and everyone else from the server for the help.
> 
> Join us on the TreeHouse discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> See you next time.


	5. Chapter 5-Traces

The week after my little fight with Catherine proves as quiet as everyone else predicted. The first couple of days we get no students coming to ask to borrow books but only to sit and study. The most work ‘Tomas’ and I get to do is when students bring back borrowed books and we have to return them to their shelf. Bit of a chore, but nothing too difficult.

It’s thanks to this quieter environment that I start bringing the history book to the library, like Catherine suggested. And true to what she said, Solon didn’t mind. Actually, when I showed up with it he seemed oddly thrilled, which was kind of worrying. Considering he’s in the dark of just who and what I actually am, he shouldn’t have taken an interest in me. Maybe he just was keeping up his kind old man facade and I’m just reading too much into it. At least, I hope so.

As for my research, saying things are going badly would be an understatement. For over a week I’ve been going through the history of Fódlan and I’m no close to finding a clue on what I’m looking for. All I’ve found so far, aside from the occasional guy riding a creature that shouldn’t exist, is mundane stuff of political and/or clerical nature that you could expect from any history book back home. I’m sure this is the kind of stuff an historian would like. Me? I. Don’t. Care!

“Is something wrong?” Solon asks, stirring my attention away from reading.

“No, everyting is fine, don’t worry.”

“Is that so? You’ve been sighing quite a lot today.”

Oh, great. I’ve drawn the attention of uglier Nergal. What do I say to him without being suspicious?

“It’s just…” I sigh, probably for the hundredth time today judging by what Solon just said, “I fear I’m no good at history. I’ve been reading dis book for days, but I fear very little of what’s on it is sticking,” that’s as close to the truth as I can afford to get.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he laments, looking the part of the sad caring grandpa I know he’s putting up, “May I help you in any way?”

Yeah, a Slitherer’s help. Just the kind of stuff I need.

“No, tank you,” I reply “Maybe I just need to take a break from it,” I add, closing the book for good measure “A friend I made in de Knights did say dat could do me good,” although calling Shamir ‘a friend’ might be a bit of an overstatement, considering her reserved nature makes it difficult for me to understand where the two of us stand.

“I see,” Solon comments, although the not so subtle glance he gives at the now closed book doesn’t escape me. What are you up to, you twisted freak? “Well, in that case, would you be so kind as to take care of these tomes?” he points at a stack of books near him, “They all go to the Reason wing.”

“Sure,” I answer, standing up from where I was and grabbing the books. Acting normal will surely dispel any curiosity I stirred from him, “I’ll be back soon.”

The ‘Reason wing’ is the name of the section of the library dedicated to - obviously - the texts that deal in Black and Dark magic. Part of it is here on this floor and it keeps tomes that deal with Black Magic only, which means fire, thunder, wind and ice magic are all here. Dark Magic, instead, is kept in the section on the upper floor.

When I asked why they were kept separated, Solon said it was because Dark is a more advanced form of Reason magic and thus it is restricted to students that either show promise in that field of magic or have dabbled in it beforehand. I guess that explains why only Hubert and Lysithea learned that kind of spells in the game.

While I proceed to put the books back in place, my thoughts wander on the situation I’m in.

This improvised research of mine is proving fruitless. After a good chunk of the book there have been no mentions of strange phenomena that could have implied Outrealms shenanigans and I’m no closer to finding a way home. Part of me wants to hope that there’s more in the rest of it, but the other part is convinced I’m merely wasting time.

But either way, if the book lead proves useless, I don’t know what else to do. There are undoubtedly no books that speak of the Nabateans and asking Rhea and Seteth directly is out of the question.

No matter how hard I try to think of alternatives, Anna keeps being the only one that comes to mind. And the problems with that always remain how to approach her about this and how to convince her to help me in the first place. Possibly in ways that don’t end up costing me an arm and a leg.

Perhaps it’s best if I just stick to the book for now. While it’s true I’ve already gone through a lot, there’s still a lot more I haven’t checked yet. As boring as all the ‘mundane’ historical stuff is.

But hey, there’s still six months ahead of me. Maybe if I take a break for a couple days like I said earlier, I’ll be able to keep reading it with a fresher head and more interest than I have right now. Unlikely, but I’ll take it. I have to.

With the last tome back in place, I head back to Solon’s counter. To my surprise, he’s chatting with someone else. A tall guy with his back turned to me. All I manage to see of him is his gray hair and an expensive-looking brownish-gray coat with what looks like a fur collar. Normally I’d assume he must be some sort of elderly nobleman, but with Three Houses having a wider variety of ‘common’ hair colors than normal, I’m not so sure about the ‘elderly’ bit.

While the two talk, Solon’s eyes fall on me, “Ah, there he is,” is the first thing he says.

What did I do now?

The nobleman turns around and I’m able to see the front of this guy. A jacket of the same color as the coat, a green cravat, a monocle on his right eye, the wrinkles on his face typical of a middle-aged man...is this guy…?

“Ah, greetings,” the man cheerfully says while offering me a hand, “I’m Professor Hanneman von Essar,” it _ is _ him, “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr. Eugenio.” 

He knows me? How is that possible?

“Likewise, professor,” I awkwardly reply while shaking Hanneman’s hand, “But how do you know my name?”

“I told him,” ‘Tomas’ intervenes, “He arrived just now saying he wanted to have a word with ‘my new assistant’.”

Ah, that makes sense. But what could Hanneman possibly want to talk with me about?

“In addition to teaching,” Hanneman goes on “I am also a scholar of Crests, and the unsolved mysteries surrounding them,” I already know that, buddy, “I think you could provide some help with my research.”

Oh, I get it. This is the ‘do you have a Crest’ thing, isn’t it?

“Really?” I ask, faking interest as best as I can “How may I help you?”

I swear his eyes gleam at my words, “Do you know if you happen to bear a Crest?”

Called it.

“Sorry, but no,” I reply, now faking disappointment, “I’m from common origins with no ties to de nobility.”

“I’m afraid that doesn’t mean much,” the professor retorts, “Seteth, the Archbishop’s assistant, is also from common origins and not only does he bear a Crest, he bears an extremely rare one.”

Not exactly a great example to make. Of course he doesn’t know that and definitely doesn’t need to know. Least of all from me.

“Still,” I continue, “As far as I know, I’ve never shown any special trait dat might suggest a Crest.”

Hanneman rubs his mustache in thought, “I believe I have something to provide more concrete evidence than that. Would you be free to come to my office this Sunday?”

His office was where he kept that Crest analyzer thing in-game. Does this mean he wants to use it on me?

If that’s the case, I shouldn’t have anything to worry about. The device will show I have no Crest and I’ll be just another guy useless to his research he’ll quickly forget about. But how will it react to my not being of this world? Do I have to worry about that?

Still, saying no could be the more counterproductive option, especially with Solon watching the two of us (yes, I didn’t forget about you, you old sadist). As far as they both know, I’m just a simpleton with nothing to lose out of this test and a lot to potentially gain.

“Very well,” I ultimately say, “Sunday around which hour?”

Hanneman’s face lights up at that, “Any hour will do. My schedule for that day is empty.”

I turn to ‘Tomas’ “What do you say? Will you need me dat day?”

The Slitherer shakes his head, “I don’t think so. You can take that day off if you want.”

I nod at him, “Tank you,” I then turn back to Hanneman “Does 10 or 11 in de morning sound good to you, Professor?”

“That is excellent,” he replies, pumping his fist with excitement, “I look forward to our meeting that morning.”

“Same here,” I reply, forcing the best smile I can, “I’ll see you dere, den. Good luck wit de students’ tests.”

“Why thank you. Have a pleasant day,” is what he replies before walking away.

After that exchange, I return to my place at the counter, right next to Solon. With my decision of taking a break from studying, I’m left with little else to do besides sitting and waiting for time to pass.

Which gets boring as quickly as one would expect. So boring I’m tempted to try and start some sort of chat with Solon just to pass the time. But thankfully I remind myself that comes with the risk of letting slip what I don’t want him to know. Thanks but no thanks. 

“You know,” he begins all of a sudden, taking me by surprise, “A Crest is quite a rare occurrence. Do you really believe you could be carrying one?”

His question comes without a trace of malice. It sounds genuine and - perhaps - a bit teasing. If this were anyone else, I’d think that’s what this is.

But with _ him _? What are you really asking, old creep?

I make a shrug in an attempt to appear chill. Better try to play it cool, not giving away I know who he really is, “Probably not,” I reply, “But if de professor wants to know, who am I to refuse?”

For a moment, the warm smile on his face seems to falter while his brow furrows. Just as quickly as that happens, Solon shakes his head and makes a quiet chuckle that rings fake to my ears.

“That is true enough,” is all he says before going back to his papers.

I...have no idea what just happened. I don’t think I said anything that strange. But if that’s the case, why did he react like that?

And let’s not forget earlier with the book. Just what is going on with him?

I’m tempted to ask if there’s a problem, but that could worsen whatever situation I’m in right now. Maybe I should just...be quiet and act like nothing strange happened. Yeah, that should work nicely. If he doesn’t figure out I noticed the strangeness of either event, he won’t get any more suspicious than he already is.

The rest of the day proceeds as per usual. Solon and I only talk when dealing with library matters and his ‘Tomas’ mask doesn’t slip up again. I remain worried about that, but I can’t let it show. Not to him. And not to the Monastery acquaintances to whom I can’t explain why I’m worried.

* * *

“He did what?” Alois asks in utter surprise that evening once I tell him, Catherine and Shamir of Hanneman’s request.

“You heard me,” I reply, “I’m not sure myself why he tinks I could have a Crest.”

“Believe me, it’s not that strange,” Catherine sighs, “Every time there’s a new face around here - be they a member of the staff, a student or a refugee - he _ always _ comes asking for that. I’m honestly kind of surprised it took him this long.”

“Always? Including de tree of you?” I have a hard time believing he had to ask a foreigner, a veteran Knight whose Crest would have been noticed long before, and a new recruit that could safely wield Thunderbrand.

Catherine is the first to answer, “Well, in my case he got the chance when I was a student here,” oh, right. I forgot about that. Again.

“In my case, it wasn’t necessary,” Alois intervenes, “I was around here long before he became a professor and the fact I didn’t have a Crest was already known. Bit of a _ crest _fallen attitude he had when he met me!”

Goddamn his puns…

“As for me,” Shamir chimes in, “Foreigners in theory shouldn’t have Crests. But he kept insisting I came to his office to see if I did. In case I ‘had a distant ancestor of mixed heritage from whom I could have inherited a Crest’,” she scoffs at that particular last bit, “I had to relent when it started getting in the way of my work. Unsurprisingly, I had no Crest.”

“I’m surprised he still asked you after that particular time,” Alois comments right after.

“Why is dat?” I mean, the fact I’m not a native of Fódlan isn’t exactly common knowledge, isn’t it?

“Well, with your particular situation you’re technically a foreigner too, right?”

“He’s not supposed to know dat, remember?”

“Oh, right,” Alois facepalms “Sorry.”

Alois, you loveable goof.

“It’s ok,” I reassure him “Once he’s seen I have no Crest he’ll be none de wiser, anyway.”

“Why so sure you don’t have one?” Catherine interjects.

“Cat, back home we’ve had centuries of generations born witout any sort of divine birthmarks,” better to go with that half-truth than saying the full truth or something like ‘I just do’, “Last I checked, I’m not special enough to be any different.”

“If you say so,” she concedes before raising her mug of ale, “Here’s to your turn at Hanneman’s office.”

Shamir and Alois raise theirs as well while I raise my water in a similar fashion.

“I still think you’re missing out with just that, by the way,” Catherine adds after downing her drink.

“And I still say alcohol is not for me,” I shoot back, “Wit what I heard, losing control over my senses is not someting I would like to experience.”

“Your loss, buddy.”

The four of us spend the rest of the night in much the same fashion as usual, making small talk about various stuff. The three have all been involved with the students’ test in one way or another, so they all have some stories to share about them.

Shamir is the first to call it a night and is followed soon after by Catherine. I almost follow the two of them suit but not before Alois stops me with a request.

“By the way, would you mind if I join you when you go visit Professor Hanneman? There’s something I’d like to ask him.”

That takes me by surprise. Why would Alois need to see him of all people? Did the two even have supports in the game? Or does this have to do with the students’ tests?

“Why is dat?”

“I’ve been looking for someone who could teach me magic. I think he might be the man for the job.”

Teach him? Didn’t Alois suck ass at magic in the game? “Why do you need a magic teacher?”

He shrugs uncomfortably, “I’m afraid my magical skills are...not particularly good,” yeah, joining with bad base magic and growth will do that “I’ve been looking for some time for someone that could help me improve them. Who better than a professional teacher for that?”

Not sure if Hanneman can fix that kind of problem. But if Alois really wants to try out…

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. No promises on wheder de professor will accept, dough.” 

“Fantastic! It’ll be a _ magical _ experience!”

Don’t make me regret this, Alois…

* * *

The rest of the week went on without any other particular event. Saturday was the “long awaited” graduation day, but I opted not to go there. Too much of a commotion for my taste and not enough familiar faces around.

Solon, on the other hand, took the chance to leave the whole library to me. ‘_ I want to see these bright youths in their moment of success _ ’ was the excuse he gave me. ‘ _ I’ll take this chance to go do some of my Slitherer business _’ is what he actually meant, I bet.

Didn’t make much of a difference to me, though. Since no one really came around, I got the chance to read undisturbed. Although I still didn’t find anything that day, I at least got to progress through a not so insignificant section of it.

And now, Sunday has come. Right after having breakfast, I head to the Knights’ Barracks one more time, waiting for Alois. Fortunately, the Knight doesn’t take long to show up.

“Alright,” Alois excitedly says “This is it.”

“Dat it is,” I reply. I’m still not convinced Hanneman will be able to provide any sort of help, but I’m not going to crush his hopes, “Do you know de way to de professor’s office?”

I originally intended to ask around, but since I’m going with someone more familiar with the place...

“Sure thing,” he replies “Follow me.”

We head back towards the Academy and, with an expertise you would normally not expect from the usually goofy Knight, he quickly leads the two of us across the various halls.

As we walk, we make some more small talk, mostly consisting of Alois stating what he knows of Hanneman from his reputation, to which I have to pretend being impressed since it’s mostly stuff I already knew from the game.

As soon as we arrive at Hanneman’s study, I knock on the door.

“Enter,” the professor’s voice answers from inside.

I open the door and walk in, Alois right behind me. Hanneman is sitting at his desk, a mess of papers covering the majority of it.

Hanneman himself is writing on some of those papers, though I can’t tell what it is. My attention, however, is caught by an object on the right corner of the desk: some sort of small cauldron, with a black glass surface covering its mouth, making it impossible to see what’s inside.

“Ah welcome, Eugenio, and-” Hanneman warmly greets me when he sees me, but pauses when he notices my companion. “Sir Alois? Is there a problem?”

“No, no, no problem, Professor. I was just hoping to ask a favor when you were finished with him.”

“I told him of dis meeting and agreed he could come along,” I clarify to the confused mage, “I hope it isn’t an issue.”

“Not exactly, “ but it will depend on what kind of favor it is.” Hanneman sighs. “Anyway…”

The eccentric scholar raises from his seat, comes closer to the cauldron and points at it, “This is a Crest analyzer. A device created to identify if and what Crest people might carry.”

_ That _ is the analyzer? I remember it looking different than this in the game. Then again, maybe that was due to the limitations of the game’s graphics. Or perhaps I’m just misremembering.

“What do I do with it?” I ask, though I think I can already guess the answer if this is the same thing he used (will use?) with Byleth.

“Hold an arm over it. If you do have a Crest, it will light up and show us which Crest it is.”

Yep, same method. Alright, then. Let’s get this over with, “On it,” I reply.

I move closer to the analyzer, raising my right arm. I hold it over the device, like Hanneman instructed, expecting it not to react at all. And at first, it doesn’t.

But then, to my utter surprise, a purple glow forms within the cauldron. A glow that increases in intensity until purple light was all one could see from within the analyzer.

“What de…?” I exclaim, taken aback.

From what I remember of Hanneman from the game, I would have expected him to look pleased at the prospect of having found a Crest-bearer, if not outright excited. Instead, he looks as confused as I am.

“This is...strange,” he comments.

A knot forms in my stomach. ‘Strange’? What does that mean?

“It’s reacting to your blood,” he continues “And yet…it can’t identify your Crest.”

It’s reacting to my...blood?

Oh…

Oh no.

Oh nononononono

No, I can’t let anyone know I’m from another world entirely.

“Has dis…” I attempt to say, hoping to salvage the situation “Has dis ever happened before?”

He shakes his head, “No this is the first time I’ve seen it happen.”

Damn it.

“Could it be broken?” Alois suddenly asks, “Maybe it’s reacting to everyone’s blood but this is what happens with those without Crests?”

How does a _ magical _ device even…? No, no, no, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

Hanneman rubs his mustache in thought at the question, “It’s possible,” oh, thank God, “But I need to test that theory,” oh, no… “Sir Alois, could you please hold your arm yourself?”

“On it,” the Knight answers before mimicking my previous action.

Please keep glowing, please keep glowing, pleasekeepglowing, please…

As soon as Alois holds out his arm, the analyzer’s light shuts off. The Knight’s jaw falls wide open while Hanneman narrows his eyes at it.

Damn it...

“So it _ is _ working,” the professor comments before turning back to me “It would appear there is something in your blood that the analyzer is reacting to. Something different from regular Crests.”

“Wh…” I stutter, my brain struggling to grasp what he just said, “What...what does...does dat...mean?”

“I’m not sure,” he replies, his gaze going back to the analyzer while he keeps rubbing his mustache in thought.

I glance in Alois’ direction, hoping he can offer some help, but all he manages to do is shrug while looking out of his depths.

“The Crest is not showing and yet it’s there,” Hanneman begins muttering, possibly louder than he intended, “Could it be…? But how…? No, that won’t do…”

Several more minutes pass as Hanneman keeps talking to himself. Alois just stands around the whole time, waiting for the professor to finish his musings. And in a silence that is utterly uncharacteristic of him.

As for me, my thoughts also go to the meaning of this. In my blood, there’s something that’s...different from normal Crests? What does that mean?

What I remember of the Crests in the game was that they came from the blood of the Nabateans. And I sure as hell never drank _ any _ sort of blood (eww), least of all draconic. So that must mean the analyzer did react to my otherworldly nature.

Well, now what? How do I explain the concept of different worlds to everyone? How do I keep up the ‘Fódlan is a land from legends’ nonsense? How do I convince Rhea not to eviscerate me for hiding the truth?

Oh, God…

“I think I have a theory on what is going on,” Hanneman finally says, breaking my musings, “But first, I need you to hold your arm again. And this time, for longer.”

I blink at that request. What is it supposed to accomplish? What’s going through Hanneman’s head now?

“Please,” he continues at my hesitation, “I want to get to the bottom of this as well, but I need your help to do that.”

Reluctantly, I raise my arm over the analyzer again. Once more, the inside begins to glow as the light spreads over it, but this time I hold my trembling arm in position.

Nothing happens at first, but after a few tense moments, something begins to form within the light. Something black.

Whatever the black substance is, it starts to shape into various lines. At first, those lines are sporadic and don’t make any sort of pattern. But then, more of them appear and they slowly come together to form a mark. A mark I can recognize.

“The Crest of Dominic!” Hanneman exclaims in triumph “I was right!”

…

I hear Alois asking Hanneman a question. I register neither what that question is nor the professor’s reply.

What the actual...?

How did I get a Crest? Why the Dominic one? Why was it not detected normally? What does it all mean for me?

And what will be Seteth and Rhea’s reaction when they find out? Will they be as confused as I am? Will they believe me when I tell them I don’t know anything about it? Or will they...will they…?

“Eugenio!”

Alois’ voice and hand shake me out of my stupor. And only now I realize I was shaking from head to toe while my arm was still hovering over the analyzer.

“Wh...what…?”

“Have you heard what we just said?”, I have to shake my head at Hanneman’s question “Then allow me to repeat: it seems what is in your blood is not a full Crest. The difficulties we had in identifying it would suggest there are only traces of that Crest within it.”

‘Traces’? “What does dat mean?”

Hanneman’s face turns meditative, “I’m not sure myself. This is just speculation on my part. But these are the facts: there’s the power of the Crest of Dominic in your blood and the analyzer didn’t identify it right away like it would a normal Crest.”

“B…” I try to say, “But still...how can dis be? I’ve never had anyting like dis before! I’m not even a Fódlan native!”

Alois immediately pales at my statement, while Hanneman’s eyes widen “Wait, you’re foreign?”

...oh, no.

Oh, shit no!

“Ahem…” gotta fix this right now “I mean, I’m not a…” what did they call themselves? “A full-blooded Fódlanite. My...my grandmoder was…” what nationality do I look more like? Wait, the Gatekeeper’s first thought was... “Dagdan. Yes, born and raised dere until she travelled here. Yes.”

An arched eyebrow is the way Hanneman responds to my story. A response that makes me sweat cold. Was that really so unconvincing?

“That is quite an interesting ancestry. For more than one reason,” he crosses his arms, his whole stance shifting, which sets off all sorts of alarms. This is not gonna be good, is it? 

“First of all, your accent is native to the Alliance,” yes, that was why Rhea wanted to use that kind of cover, at least I got something- “Which is the farthest part of Fódlan from Dagda,” or maybe not, “Your grandmother would have no doubt sought to reach the closest part, which is to say the western shores of the Empire. Quite a distance from where you should be from.”

Crap.

Ok, ok, he’s got me on that point, but that doesn’t mean my parents couldn’t have...

“Secondly, travelling to and from Dagda is extremely difficult. Distance is part of the reason, but so is the Empire’s military fleet that has watched over the south-western shores ever since the First Mach War, which was over four centuries ago,”

The first...what? But then...how did Shamir…?

“And while both of those events are unlikely but possible, this is the first time I’ve heard the term ‘Fódlanite’,”

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

“Then what the hell do you people even call yourselves?!?” I cry and immediately do a double take, realizing I’ve just blown my cover entirely while the old man smiles smugly.

Fuck, how could I slip up this badly?

“Well, you see Professor, the thing is he’s...uhm...he’s from…” Alois attempts to say before trailing off.

Neck-deep in trouble is what I am now, buddy. If I remember correctly, Hanneman isn’t the type that will let this rest until he gets what he wants.

And he wouldn’t even be above trying to get information from Rhea and Seteth. Information they’d no doubt share if he tells them of this Crest. Assuming, of course, they don’t just decide to skewer me.

Me and my goddamn mouth...

“If I tell you,” I sigh in defeat, Alois’ stupefied face turning to me, “Can you promise not to tell anyone?”

“Of course,” he readily replies “Any secret you wish to share is safe with me.”

‘Wish to share’? Very amusing, Hanneman…

“Dis was supposed to be a secret only a select few would know,” I begin.

From there, I proceed to share everything I did with everyone else. As I explain my homeland, how I arrived in Fódlan and how I know of it, Hanneman’s eyes widen more and more. By the time I’m finished, he’s staring at me, jaw wide open.

It takes him a couple of minutes to regain the ability to speak, “This is…Goddess, I never thought…” he clears his throat and proceeds to recompose himself, “My apologies. A forgotten land was not what I was expecting.”

“It’s ok. I was in a similar condition when I found out.”

“We all were,” Alois adds.  
  
“But what we found in your blood,” he glances at the Analyzer “This...unusual Crest...is it a normal thing in your homeland?”

I shake my head at his question, “No. We’ve had no Crest bearers for generations. And dis is de first time I’ve heard of ‘traces’ of a Crest’,”  
  
“As has everyone else,” his brow furrows as he takes a meditative stance “So this isn’t a natural thing. Somehow, you acquired it,” he turns his gaze back to me “I don’t suppose there are documented cases of that happening?”

My first instinct is to answer no again. However, I _ do _ know the two ways Crests were given in this setting. I’d rather not stir a fire by mentioning the blood of dragons, but what if I mention the Slitherers’ experiments?

Hanneman _ has _ promised to keep this quiet, and Solon isn’t here. Nor are Seteth and Rhea. And if I remember correctly, Lysithea and Edelgard, the only two to survive those experiments, didn’t…

I almost gulp at that thought. Lysithea and Edelgard ended up with shortened lives precisely because of obtaining their Crests. Could...could that be my…?

No. My hair has not lost color. That should mean this isn’t the same thing. And also that I’m not dying. But that will change if I start sharing too much.

“No,” I lie, “Noting of de sort,” I pray I’m not making another mistake today.

“I see,” he comments, “So we’re dealing with something completely unknown to both of our people.”

“What could it be?” I ask, although I already expect he has no answer for me.

At first, he doesn’t reply and keeps muttering scattered words of some sort of discussion I can not put together.

“Do you remember anything strange happening to you recently?” he finally asks “Anything at all. Even the Goddess herself speaking to you in dreams.”

A snicker escapes Alois’ mouth at that. I am just left baffled.

“Seriously?” the Knight asks “No offense but that…”

“It was just an hyperbole,” Hanneman cuts him off before turning back to me, “But we have to start from somewhere. Even somewhere that might seem absurd.”

Oh, you’d have a field trip if you knew of Sothis living inside Byleth’s head, Hanneman. Obviously the two of you have yet to meet each other, but still…

“Well, let me tink…” I say as I refocus on the matter at hand. I may not be acquainted with the lifestyle of Fódlan, but I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary for the Monastery during my time here. In fact, someone arriving from Earth must have been the only thing out of the ordinary for everyone else here.

Wait a moment…

“My arrival here…” I mutter, “De ting dat took me here...could it have…?”

“Of course!” Hanneman exclaims in realization “How did I not think of that?”

“Think of what?”

“Alois,” I turn to the Knight “I arrived here in Fódlan trough unknown means and from a land no one remembers,” ‘never heard of’ but details, “A couple weeks later it turns out I have an unheard of type of Crest I wasn’t born wit. Dis can not be a coincidence.”

His eyes widen in surprise at my words “You think the two are related?”

“That is most certainly a possibility,” Hanneman intervenes, “And for now, the only lead we have.”

And if it is the truth, it must have been someone with the actual capabilities of granting Crests. And with the one I have being the Dominic one, only the Slitherers could have done this. But if it _ is _ them, what could they even want from me? And wouldn’t Solon have said something during this couple of weeks?

But if it’s not them, who else could it be?

I turn back to Hanneman, “What do we do now, Professor?”

Please don’t say we need to report this to Rhea. The last thing I want is her being even more suspicious of me.

“Well, first of all we need to understand just how different this Crest is from regular ones and how your body has been affected by it,” he comments “On that note, were your magical capabilities ever tested?”

I blink at that question, “My...what?”

“Do you know if you have any affinity for the magical arts? The Crest of Dominic affects its bearer’s magical capabilities, you see.”

And comparing mine from before with the current ones is essential, I’m assuming. Oh boy, what do I tell him? If my ‘affinity’ is the same as back on Earth I should have none, but how can I know for sure at this point?

“I don’t know,” I confess, which is pretty much true “I never studied magic before.”

“That is unfortunate,” Hanneman comments in disappointment “But not unsalvageable.” 

“How so?”

For a moment, Hanneman stands still, his face deep in thought.

Then, he finally speaks “I think the best thing to do would be having you study magic and see where it goes from there. _ That _ should help me see how your body has been affected,” what? Seriously? “As for how your Crest came to be in the first place, I’ll need to run some tests with your blood.”

Both Alois and I have to cringe at what he just said.

“Don’t worry,” he raises his hands reassuringly “I’ll only require a few samples to run those tests on. It won’t hurt a bit.”

Ok, that is more reasonable. But just how long will this take? I can’t afford to be here when Edelgard starts her war.

“Do you have any idea how long it will be before dese tests give any result?”

“It’s too soon to say,” Hanneman shrugs “With what we know so far, it could be anything in between a few weeks to several months. If not years.”

My heart sinks at that answer. Weeks, I can take. Months, perhaps. Years, absolutely not! But how can I justify me being in a hurry?

“Is dere anyting dat can be done to expedite tings?” I attempt to ask, “I know researches take deir time, but I have friends and family back home dat are no doubt worried about me.”

A compassionate look comes to Hanneman’s face “I can sympathize with that. But as I said, it’s too soon to say. The only thing that can be done to expedite things would be making your Crest public knowledge,” WHAT? “With that I could petition the Church to grant me more resources to run my experiments.”

Hanneman, you old coot, your sister died because of the political bullshit surrounding Crests and you want me to…?!

“I should warn you, though, Crest bearers are highly sought after by nobility seeking to increase their social status. Making it public knowledge could be…”

“Dangerous?” I finish for him as he trails off.

“I was about to say ‘more trouble than it’s worth’. But yes,” ok, this is the Hanneman I remember from the game, “The choice, of course, is yours.”

Then it’s an easy one to make. As much as I want to get out of here as soon as possible, I don’t need old crones trying to get Crest-babies from me.

“In dat case, I tink I’d rather keep dis a secret.”

The professor nods at me, “Good.”

“Should we tell Catherine and Shamir?” Alois asks out of the blue.

I would rather not. Shamir, I don’t think she’d care either way. But with how devoted Catherine was to Rhea in the game and with me not wanting to tell the crazy dragon, I have little doubt she’d end up snitching on me. But how do I tell him _ that _?

“For now, I’d rather keep dis between you and me. I…” I pause, hopefully giving a proper impression of hesitance “Dis is a lot to take in.”

“I can imagine,” good, he bought it.

I then turn back to Hanneman “How do we proceed from here, Professor?”

“For now, take the day to yourself to clear your head. Tomorrow afternoon I’ll have a word with Tomas and then tell you what we’ll do.”

I nod at him, “Tank you, Professor.”

We wrap up after that. To Hanneman’s evident relief, Alois decides he’ll ask his favor another day and the two of us make our way out.

As we proceed, Alois tries to make some small talk again, but my head is too preoccupied with questions about these latest developments.

* * *

[SOLON]

This was quite a turn of events. From his nonchalant response at my comment, I had a feeling listening into this meeting with could prove interesting, but not _ this _ interesting.

A formerly Crestless individual found to have traces of one of the Elites’ Crests.

The concept of artificially gaining a Crest is not alien to me. The Elites themselves gained theirs through the blood of the Nabateans and there are also the experiments conducted by my colleagues back in Shambhala that eventually created the Flame Emperor.

However, both of those events had led to the individual gaining a full Major Crest, not mere ‘traces’.

It’s possible a less invasive blood surgery could have granted that little of the power, which could also explain why there was no loss of hair pigmentation. But the tramp failed to mention any such procedure. It could be he just kept quiet about it, but I have a feeling he didn’t.

There is another possibility, however. In times past, some of the Agarthans performed experiments with Crest Stones that left ‘traces’ of the corresponding Crests in their blood. If we’re dealing with a similar situation, he must have gone through some spell or ritual that involved a Crest Stone of Dominic.

The very same spell or ritual that took him to Fódlan, as they said...

That, however, begs the question of who performed such a ritual and why. _ We _ are the only ones in possession of both the Crest Stones and the resources to experiment with them. That, plus how he said he arrived here, could mean his presence is the side effect of an experiment from one of us.

Or perhaps…

There is another who could have done this. One who stole Crest Stones, among other things, from us. One whose death has always been in question. One whose intentions might have been exactly to summon this outsider.

I quickly grab a pen and some paper. If it really is her, I need to send a report to Thales immediately. There is no knowing of what she’s planning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was chapter 5. This was a plot point I was worried about. I hope you guys liked it!
> 
> Chapter 6 might take some more time than this one did before it's out. The situation with the COVID-19 has kind of turned my life upside down in the last weeks, so...yeah.
> 
> On that note, stay safe out there. Wash your hands, keep the proper distance from others and don't go out unless you ABSOLUTELY need to.
> 
> Thanks once more to LowerBlack and 16th-Beat for the betaread.
> 
> Join us on the TreeHouse discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> I'll see you all next time!


	6. Chapter 6-Studies

To say I slept badly last night would be an understatement. Despite my best efforts to fall asleep, I could not. I was too preoccupied thinking about yesterday’ revelations.

A Crest of Dominic. In  _ my _ blood. And not a Major or Minor one like you would expect, but ‘traces’ of it. And the only lead on how I got it being that it must be related to how I came into this world.

None of which makes any sense to me. Who took me to Fódlan and why would they do that? Why did they give me a Crest? How could I possibly fit into whatever plot they have in mind?

Of course, those same thoughts are the reason why I’m now struggling to keep my eyes open. Back on Earth a cup of coffee would have been enough to fix me up, but here coffee is a luxury for the nobility. A luxury this Monastery doesn’t provide.

Thankfully, with the exams over, the current students are leaving, so I don’t have that much work to do today.

“Are you feeling alright?”

Less thankfully, Solon is obviously curious why I’m such a mess today. And I would like nothing more than telling him to let me be, but I obviously can’t. Not without him getting suspicious.

“I’m fine,” I say dismissively.

“You don’t look ‘fine’.”

“I am. Just...had a bad night.”

“Trouble sleeping?”

“You could say dat,” just go away, ugly.

“And why is that?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes it happens and den I am like dis for de rest of de morning,” it wasn’t technically untrue, considering sometimes tension for an exam would keep me up at night. But as I said, coffee would fix me up, but that would not fly with the background of mine he has been given.

“I see,” he thankfully shuts up for a bit, but he’s quickly back at it, “How is your reading going?”

Ugh,  _ now _ you have to keep up your librarian facade?

“I tink I’m finished wit it,” which is true. With Hanneman offering to give me some more concrete chances for answers, that book is little more than a waste of space in my room, “I forgot today, but I’ll probably bring it back tomorrow.”

“Oh,” he winces “I...see.”

Are we done now or do you have anything else to make this headache worse with?

“One more thing,” ugh, what? “I met Professor Hanneman yesterday evening,” huh? “He said he needed a hand in organizing his lessons for the coming year and wanted to know if you were available these next few afternoons,” huh, guess that is what he came up with to avoid questions.

“And what did you tell him?”

“That I’d first ask you if you were willing. Are you?”

You can bet your unnatural eyes I do. Of course, I don’t answer him like that.

“I guess if he needs my help I’ll provide it,” I reply in the most monotone voice I can muster, “If it’s not a problem?”

“Of course not,” he says with a good-natured chuckle (that I wager is fake as sin), “As you can see,” he waves around the library “There isn’t going to be much activity around here for the near future.”

Good, that’s the answer I was hoping for.

Thankfully that’s the last I interact with him until lunch break. Which, now that I think about it, could be either good or bad. The fact he seemed unbothered by not having me around as much should mean he doesn’t have any real interest in me. Which should mean he and his buddies are not responsible for bringing me in.

But that also brings back up the question of who else could be responsible.

Hopefully these tests Hanneman wants to run will answer that.

* * *

After lunch break, I’ve thankfully managed to fight off most of my drowsiness. Enough to remember to head for Hanneman’s office instead of the library.

I knock on the door as soon as I arrive, with Hanneman’s response being a simple “Enter.”

The place has unsurprisingly not changed much since yesterday. The only differences I manage to notice are fewer papers on the desk and the Analyzer being nowhere in sight. In its place, however, there’s a pile of books. Guess he’s really preparing the lessons for the new year, huh?

“Ah, welcome, welcome,” Hanneman greets me as soon as he notices I’ve arrived, “Please, take a seat,” he points at a chair on the other side of his desk.

“Tomas told me you needed my help with your papers,” I say once I’ve sat down, “I’m assuming dat’s just a cover for our arrangement?” because if it’s not I don’t even know how I’m supposed to be helping out.

“Indeed it is,” oh, good “With your current situation as a worker here at the Monastery, it should not raise any question if a member of the Church or the Academy calls on you for help.”

Is that so? When I was taken in, I was given the specific job of assisting Tomas. Would it really be that easy for me to take on another duty?

Actually...Seteth had given me that job for one specific reason. Will he grow suspicious?

“Can you really do dis?” I ask him, “My job at de library was given to me by Lady Rhea and Seteth. Won’t dey ask questions if we do dis?”

“Between the fact I’m not only a teacher but also a researcher and that I’m advancing in age, as an... _ esteemed _ colleague of mine likes to remind me,” judging by that pause and the venom he said it with, I think I know who that colleague is, “I think it would surprise no one if I start relying on someone else for my work. Even the two of them.”

I guess that could work with any other worker. But with me? The two salamanders are not stupid. They’ll know something else is up.

“I did tell you dey are both aware of my situation, right?”

“You did. And that is why we won’t do this regularly,” oh? “I’ll just call on you when I ‘need help’. Even Seteth won’t argue if I find myself working well with someone that gave me a good impression on our first meeting and has lived up to that impression.”

Oh, you are one sly fox, Hanneman.

“It’s admittedly not optimal, but if you want to keep your Crest secret it’s our only option. At least, until I can find a better one. And, of course, I’ll also need you to do some real work for me every now and then to avoid suspicions.”

If the price for answers is doing some chores for him, I’m more than willing to pay it. Especially considering the risks he’s clearly taking by doing this for me.

“Tank you, Professor,” I say in the most sincere way I can “I appreciate all dis. Really.”

A welcoming smile comes over his face, “It is no trouble.”

And after that, we’re both back to business “So, where do we start?”

“First of all, I’ll need a sample of your blood,” he answers as he bends over to his desk’s drawers “Give me a second...ah, here it is.”

When he stands up again, he has a small glass tube with a needle on one side. My first thought is a syringe, but did they actually have them in medieval times?

“Is dat a syringe?” I ask, just to be sure.

“Ah, you’re familiar with the tools of the trade?”

Sounds like Fódlan, at least, does have them.

“Not exactly,” I answer, “It’s just dey are widely known in my country due to how often dey’re used for medical purposes.”

A look of surprise comes to Hanneman’s face “Is that so? They’re not exactly a rarity, but usually only the nobility can afford them here.”

Perhaps I’m disclosing too much to him. If I let slip we’re more technologically advanced, Rhea will eventually hear of it and have my head. Better to cut it short with something vague.

“Tings are...different in my homeland.”

“They most certainly must be. If we find the way there, I may have to come visit it.”

Unless you wish to be stuck in an alien world, you won’t, Hanneman.

After that little exchange, I pull up the left sleeve of my tunic and Hanneman proceeds to extract his ‘sample’. It’s no different from regular blood tests, but Hanneman still seems surprised by how casually I take the whole process. I hope he isn’t considering starting to hammer me with questions of my homeland.

Whatever the case, the blood extraction proceeds smoothly, the only thing from the usual ones is different is that instead of covering the puncture point with disinfectant and cotton, he points a hand at it and a light appears in it.

Before I can ask what he’s doing, a sensation of warmth comes over my arm. Not the kind of insufferable warmth you’d get during summers but something more...I don’t know, relaxing perhaps?

“I take it this is the first time you’ve been treated with healing magic?” Hanneman comments upon noticing my surprise.

This was healing magic? Well color me amazed. I don’t remember ever feeling a similarly pleasant sensation ever before. I’m almost tempted to start going one-on-one with Catherine daily just to feel it again. Almost.

“Yes,” I admit “No one from where I lived could use it.”

“I suspected as much,” he raises the syringe and starts examining its content, a glint in his eyes that is slightly worrying, “This should be enough for a while. I may still need another sample in the future, though.”

“I’ll be available if de need arises,” I reply, “What’s next?”

He places the syringe on the desk before turning back to me, “There is something I want to see if you’re capable of doing with your particular Crest,” which is? “Crest bearers are capable of conjuring their Crests in the palm of their hand and…”

“De glowing ting showing which Crest you have?”

As soon as I ask that, a dumbfounded look comes to his face, “Yes, that.”

Oh, right. That thing we only see Edelgard do in one of the first cutscenes of the game but is never properly explained. Or even brought up after that.

“I see you are pretty knowledgeable about the matter of Crests,” Hanneman comments, a studious look now on his face.

That briefly catches me off-guard, but I thankfully manage to hide it from him (or at least he doesn’t seem to notice).

“Well, before coming here I was studying ancients myts,” let’s hope I’ll be able to use this cover story for as long as possible, “De Crests of Fódlan were one of dose myts.”

His face lights up at that “Really? In that case, do you know the story behind all of the Crests?”

Uh...I know six of them were ‘lost to history’. Marianne’s was simply thought to be cursed because the Elite who had it was turned into a Demonic Beast. Anna had another one of those but it was never explained. The rest...I know the last DLC had four characters with the Major version of them, but since I never actually bought it, I don’t know what their lore is.

“I’m ashamed to say it, but I never actually studied five of dem,” I opt to say “I know of dose of Nemesis, Seiros, de Saints and de Ten Elites. Eleven if you count Maurice.”

His face falls at that, “That is a shame,” he sighs “I was hoping that perhaps you had knowledge of the five Saints whose history was lost to time, but I suppose not.”

Five ‘Saints’, huh? So the originators of those Crests were Nabateans. Or is the fact they were Saints just a speculation of his?

“Eider way, what was it you wanted to see if I could do?” better if we get back to topic

“Oh yes,” he recomposes himself “We’re going to try having you conjure your Crest.”

That surprises me. Being able to show your own Crest seems irrelevant in terms of what skills it grants, “Why do you need dat?”

“I need to know what differences there are between yours and the normal types. And by that, I mean  _ any _ difference. Even the least impressive one could have a deeper meaning.”

Ah, that makes sense. However…

“How does de conjuring work? Do I need to chant some sort of incantation?”

“Nothing quite like that. You just need to focus on the power within your blood, and you’ll know what to do.”

Huh? “Focus on...de power? In my blood?” What sort of mumbo jumbo is that?

“Yes,” he replies matter-of-factly, “To conjure your Crest you must first tune into the power flowing through your body and make it show itself. The first time is, admittedly, the hardest, but once you’ve understood how to do it, it should become second nature to you.”

Ok…I think?

“Could you...give me some instructions?” I ask him, more confused than before, “Dis is...all new territory for me.”

“Of course. First of all, close your eyes,” I do just that, “Now, clear your head of all thoughts. Focus only on your heartbeat.”

I take a deep breath and try to follow his instructions.

How much time passes while I ‘listen to my heartbeat’, I have no idea. It could be a few seconds or it could be several minutes. And for most of it, nothing feels out of the ordinary.

In fact, all I learn from it is that sitting still makes me restless, but that’s something I already knew.

But then, just as I’m about to reopen my eyes, I sense it.

In between one beat and another, something...stirs within me. A sensation like..electricity coursing inside my very being, propelled by my very heart. It is a sensation unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. It doesn’t feel benign or malignant, it’s just...powerful.

“Can you sense it?”

I jump, taken by surprise by Hanneman’s question, losing my focus. But for some reason, the sensation doesn’t go away. It’s weaker now that I’m no longer focusing on it, but it’s still here. Still coursing.

“I…” I try to say “I tink I do. It’s...fainter if I don’t focus on it but…” how do I explain it? “Dere’s this...ting inside of me. Some sort of...of power.”

Hanneman merely keeps nodding as I say all of that, his gaze focused solely on me.

“What is it?” I ask, trying to ignore how disturbing his fixed stare is.

He recomposes himself “When you say you ‘inside of you’, do you mean you sense it flowinging through the entirety of your body?” I nod, “That is because it  _ is _ literally inside your blood. As your heart pumps it across every artery, every vein and every organ within you, the power of the Crest follows.”

I...don’t know whether to be fascinated or disgusted.

“That means you should also feel it in the palm of your hand,” he points at my right one “Command it to manifest itself and it will.”

I have a look at my hand after hearing those words. True to Hanneman’s words, I do feel the power there. But how do I ‘command it’? Do I just say ‘do the glowing thing’ or is there more?

Out of my depths, I try to hold out my open palm and picture in my mind the Crest of Dominic hovering over it.

No sooner than I do that, I feel a flare coming from it. A red light has started manifesting within its wrinkles. However, the Crest does not appear.

My first thought is that this is the best I can do with only ‘traces’ of a Crest, but then I focus on that flare. Something about it feels...odd. Like something is trying to show itself but is finding its way blocked.

I try to focus more on the image of the Crest over my hand, but still it doesn’t appear. I keep trying and trying, to the point I start sweating and my hand starts shaking, but the little bastard doesn’t want to come out.

Come on, you annoying piece of…!

Finally, after what feel like hours, the light grows in intensity and a circle of it appears over my hand. A circle made of some strange runes with the Dominic Crest in the center of it.

“Finally…” I say between heavy breaths “I did it...I…”

Before I can finish that statement, my vision grows blurry and I feel dizziness coming over me. If I were not sitting, I’d probably be stumbling right now.

In the midst of it all, I lose my focus on the Crest, which promptly fades away.

What the heck is happening?

“Are you alright?” a concerned Hanneman asks.

“I’m…” I tentatively reply “I’m fine. Just...give me a moment.”

Thankfully, I manage to fight off the dizziness that had come over me, but I have to shake my head a moment before my vision clears.

“What was dat?” I then ask Hanneman “I was fine before conjuring de Crest and den a sense of vertigo came over me.”

“Are you saying it happened right  _ after _ you managed to conjure it?”

What kind of answer is that?

“Yes,” I opt to simply reply.

“Interesting,” is the first thing he says, his expression seemingly lost in thought, “It seems conjuring your kind of Crest  _ is _ possible, but it takes a lot of effort from the bearer. To the point it leaves them close to exhaustion. Something that has never happened before with bearers of Minor or Major Crests.”

Well, that’s nice to know and all but  _ I was about to faint, jackass! _

Ok, calm down. I have to keep working with this douche if I want answers.

“So what does dat mean for me?” I ask, trying not to make it sound as between gritted teeth as it actually is.

“If I have to make an hypothesis right now, I think it’s a result of your Crest being less powerful than the other types. Although, we’ll first have to see how powerful you are with magic before we can be sure that’s the case.”

I suppose that makes sense. Although it makes me wonder if it’d be enough for me to safely wield Crusher. Not that I actually plan on trying that, of course.

“On that matter,” Hanneman continues, “Before we actually proceed to testing your mystical abilities, you’ll first need to learn the theoretical side of magic.”

Ah, so we’re already starting with the lessons? Nice. Not sure how much good this will do for me once I’m back home, but at least I can make the best out of this situation if I learn some magic, “Where do we begin?”

In response, he points at the pile of books I noticed earlier, “I’ve gathered up a few texts that should help. We shall begin with them.”

I blink in disbelief at hearing that, “What?”

* * *

When Hanneman said he was going to teach me the ‘theoretical side of magic’, I wasn’t sure what to expect. With how little Three Houses focused on the logistics of its magical system, I was always under the impression the only rule was ‘do this exact movement and say this exact formula and you’ll cast the spell’. With the limited usage of spells being a gameplay thing.

Oh, how wrong I was.

As it turns out, it’s much more complex than that. First of all, what we (or rather  _ they _ ) call magic is more than just a vague word that implies ‘doing what can not be realistically done’. It’s apparently a gift from the Goddess, a form of energy that surrounds the whole world that everyone, to some degree, can tap into. A mage usually gathers that energy into their body and then releases it in the form of a spell.

However, there are limits on how often that can be done. As our bodies are fragile vessels (or some nonsense like that), they can only have magic flow through them only so many times before they’re overcome by fatigue. They can be trained to withstand more energy (and thus cast more frequently or more powerful spells) but they can never become immune to that.

Second of all, how well each person can tune into the magical energies varies. Some can do it poorly and can only ever hope to cast one or two weak spells. Others are much more proficient and can become able to cast powerful spells like Meteor and Bolting in rapid succession (although it’s not advisable to the  _ very _ few who can).

The distinction between Reason and Faith Magic is also more convoluted than I originally thought.

Reason is called like that because it involves (surprise, surprise) the use of the mind. It revolves around a mixture of formulas, not unlike mathematical equations, and glyphs. As one of the very few people who ever liked math, I must admit applying it in such a way sounds intriguing.

There is also an explanation for the division between the ‘Black’ and’ Dark’ subcategories. The former ‘bends the elements’ (in a similar fashion to Avatar, only less flashy) into various uses, while the latter bends raw magical power into only offensive spells, a process that if not handled carefully can damage the user’s body.

Makes me wonder if Hubert was born with that hideous face of his or if it was a result of poor usage of Dark Magic on his end. Or a bit of both.

Faith, on the other hand, is more of a magic of the spirit, relying on the caster’s ‘spiritual essence’. To wield it, the user must first look into themselves, find their real self, tap into their spiritual energy and use it for their spells to work.

It’s...all a bunch of philosophical nonsense I hope I don’t have to actually study under Hanneman. Especially since I’m not one hundred percent sure I’m getting it right. No offense to Marianne, but self-loathing is not the same as ‘knowing your real self’.

Of course, this is all information I’ve gathered from Hanneman during this week summed up in a way I’m not even sure he’d approve.

And good lord, Hanneman. I know he’s doing his best teaching an illiterate moron like me, but could he  _ not _ ramble as much as he does? Seriously, one moment he’s telling me the diagrams of fire magic, the next he’s making comparisons I can’t understand! I swear I’m almost tempted to say ‘screw this!’ and go with the Anna lead. Almost.

Thankfully getting him back on track is not difficult, but that doesn’t stop him from rambling again and again. I pity whatever House he’ll teach when Byleth comes along.

And so another week passes, with my time split between work at the library during the morning and studying with Hanneman in the afternoon. And that tome I borrowed upon arriving here all but left untouched. I really need to take it back one of these days.

And just as my Knight friends had predicted, more and more students leave during the week. And even though I didn’t get to interact with them outside of the library, the Monastery starts feeling empty with so fewer people around. Not to mention my work gets rather tedious.

Between that and the hard time I have with Hanneman’s lessons, my dinners with Alois, Catherine and Shamir are now basically the only times that are not a chore.

And speaking of them, during Saturday evening…

“So, any plans on how you’ll celebrate the new year?”

That question from Alois leaves me confused. New year? Aren’t we in the middle of March?

But then it hits me. The game said the beginning of the year for Fódlan was in April. And two days from now will be the thirty-first of the month. Of course they’d celebrate the new year now.

“Some of the Knights have organized a party at the Twin Cavaliers tavern,” Catherine responds before pointing at Shamir, “I’m still trying to convince her to come along.”

The archer scoffs at that. Sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you, Cat.

“And what of you, Alois? Same old visit to the family?”

Oh?

“Yep!” the older Knight cheerfully replies, “I really can’t wait to Ester and Amelia again! In fact, I think I’ll probably leave tomorrow afternoon!”

That’s new, I don’t recall Alois ever mentioning going to visit his family. Then again, here he’s not confined to a select few lines. And besides, if this is something he does every year he wouldn’t have been able to go during the game’s year since…

Ok no, let’s not dwell on that. Changing topic.

“Will you be able to make it in time?” I’m genuinely curious about that. The game never specified where his wife and daughter live. 

“Don’t worry, the village they live in is not far from here,” Alois replies, “Not exactly close enough for me to go there every day, but still close enough for me to be back in a few days.”

‘Close to the Monastery’, eh? Wonder if it’s close enough to be one of those villages that are evacuated before the Empire’s attack. And also how their lives are impacted by the Monastery’s fall. Do the two follow Alois to wherever it is the Knights drag him or do they return to the village and remain separated from him during those five years?

And why am I thinking this when I said it was best not to dwell on it?

“Will you come say goodbye before going?” I ask, trying my best to stir away from those gloomy thoughts.

“Of course,” he answers while giving one of his wide smiles.

“What about you, Eugenio?” Catherine chimes in “Any plan for that day?”

“I...don’t have one,” I confess. After all, before tonight I was under the impression it would be just another day.

Catherine grins at that, “In that case, interested in coming along to the party?”

To the party? I’d rather not. Between all the noise and the large crowds, I have never felt at ease at parties. Especially those where I knew only a small number of those attending.

“I’m sorry, Cat, but I’m afraid I’m not,” I tell her, “I’m not exactly de life of de party.”

Her face falls a little at that, “Life of the party or not, it doesn’t mean you’d be unwelcome,” she argues, “Besides, it beats staying by your lonesome all night.”   
  
It really doesn’t.

“Do keep in mind dat I’ll have work to do de day after,” I say in a last attempt at a protest “And I won’t get to slack off if de new students arrive.”   
  
“I really doubt you’ll see many new faces,” she insists, “Most of them will probably be celebrating the festivities during those two days.”   
  
“Give it a rest, Catherine,” Shamir, who is busy massaging the bridge of her nose, sighs, “If he’s not interested, he’s not interested.”

The blonde groans at that, “Not helping, Shamir.”

“I’m not trying to,” is the archer’s dry response.

The conversation thankfully stirs away from the topic of the end of the year after that exchange. We discuss a few more topics as it grows late into the night and then we all go to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. That was chapter 6. A shorter chapter this time around. I felt this was the right point where to end it. Apologies if that left any of you disappointed.
> 
> I don't know when I'll manage to publish chapter 7, but I hope you're all looking forward to it. Some more familiar faces will show up very soon.
> 
> As always many thanks to LowerBlack and 16th-Beat for betareading.
> 
> Join us on the TreeHouse discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> See you next time!


	7. Chapter 7-1180 Begins

The Great Tree Moon. The moon when the fields spring back to life, signaling the start of a new year. A new year in which people pray to achieve their full potential. Just like a tiny sprout hopes to grow into a great tree.

I never paid that info much attention, but now I can see the appeal of that symbolism. It’s definitely a nice thing to remember a month by. Certainly better than for one day dedicated to pranks. God, how I’ve always hated April’s Fool.

At least today I would not have had to deal with that. The second of April was always a breath of fresh air after the day before. Although I suppose I should call it ‘second day of the Great Tree Moon’ now (good lord, Fódlan, why did you have to come up with such a mouthful of a name?)

Of course, this being the second is also why I’m here instead of the library.

True to his word, Alois came to say goodbye before departing that sunday (or whatever the proper name of the day is). However, before doing that, he asked if he’d find me by the gates when he got back. Knowing the guy, he probably meant it as a joke, but between work at the library being a bore these last few days and this being a good chance to stay away for a bit from my favourite crusty sadist, I said ‘sure thing’, which he took in stride as he usually does.

I was a bit surprised when I saw him leave by horse, since I’m used to thinking of him as an infantry combatant, but hey, this isn’t a videogame anymore so get the fuck out gameplay mechanics.

And now here I am. Waiting for him. Just like I said I would.

And according to Catherine, there shouldn’t be other arrivals today, with everyone recovering from the festivities of yesterday.

Which is why I’m surprised when I see a carriage stopping in front of the Monastery’s gates, the horses panting heavily after what must have been a really intense run. Whoever’s just arrived must have had some really really really urgent business to tire the poor animals like this.

The driver quickly leaves his seat and opens the carriage’s door, “My lady, my lord, we’ve arrived,” I hear him say.

Lady and lord, huh? Are these two a couple of nobles visiting the Monastery?

“Excellent news,” a low-pitched, sinister voice says back to him. A voice I think I’ve heard before.

My suspicions are quickly proven true. As the driver proceeds to unload the two bags on top of the carriage, from the vehicle comes the unmistakable figure of Hubert von Vestra. And he looks every bit as creepy as his in-game self. Long oily black hair that covers half of his face, impossibly thin eyelids, small eyes that gleam with a malicious look, he’s got it all.

The only difference between him and his pre-timeskip look is the outfit he’s wearing. Instead of the usual uniform worn by the Academy’s students, he’s got a white shirt and a black jacket, with a set of matching pants and a cravat. Edgy much, my boy? Then again, I guess there isn’t that much else that goes along with his face.

And, soon after, he’s joined by the one other student character you can always be sure he’s close to. Lo and behold, her majesty, heir of the nation built on a millennium of half truths known as Adrestia and the misguided Flame Emperor, the one and only, Edelgard von Hresvelg.

Just like Hubert, she looks very much like her game counterpart. A pair of calculating lilac eyes, a spotless face and long white hair. And when I say ‘white hair’, I mean ‘dear lord, a girl her age is not supposed to have hair this white!’

I know why they are the way they are, but that doesn’t stop the contrast of seeing the hair of an old woman on the head of a teenager from being concerning.

Just like Hubert, her outfit is different from the one in the game, but not as different as his. Her red stockings, her heeled shoes and her white gloves are still there, but instead of the caped jacket she had in the game, she has a high-collared red dress that covers everything from her neck downwards.

No showing your scars, is that it, girl?

“Your luggage, my lady,” the driver says, bowing his head as he offers one of the bags to each of the two.

“Thank you, Pablo,” Edelgard says as she accepts her bag, her retainer doing the same at her side “Have a safe return to Enbarr,” she adds while briefly nodding her head, the tiniest hints of a smile on her face.

“And you a safe stay, milady,” is what ‘Pablo’ answers before going back to his seat and departing again, leaving the two teens alone with their luggages.

“Allow me to take care of your bag, Lady Edelgard,” Hubert immediately offers, his free hand outstretched to his liege.

“There is no need, Hubert,” the white-haired girl replies, “I can take care of it. Plus, you already have your own to take care of.”

Hubert tries to make some more arguments why it’s ‘his duty as the Adrestian heir’s retainer to take care of her manual labor’ or some such nonsense, but he ultimately has to comply with Edelgard’s request. After that, they both proceed towards the Monastery.

Or at least, they do until Hubert stops in his steps and starts turning his scowling face towards me. Which is when I realize I’ve been staring at them this whole time.

Oh, no. I’m already on Jeritza’s shit list, I don’t need to be on Hubert’s as well.

I quickly turn back to the gates, thankfully before the Castlevania reject’s head has fully turned. But my eyes are not focused on that. In fact, they are not focused on anything at all. I’m too preoccupied with thoughts like ‘is he still there?’ or ‘can I turn around again, now?’

I don’t know how much I stay in that condition, but eventually I can no longer hold the tension and turn around.

Fortunately, upon doing so, the two students are both gone. Something at which I take a breath of relief. Good God.

“ _ I really doubt you’ll see many new faces, _ ” Catherine said “ _ Most of them will probably be celebrating the festivities during those two days, _ ” she said.

Yeah, except the two aspiring war mongers that clearly didn’t have time to waste.

When Alois does arrive, I swear it’s a comforting sight.

* * *

In the following few days, the halls of the Monastery start getting crowded again. More and more students keep arriving, most either transported by carriages like Edelgard and Hubert, others riding a mount of their own. Among all the new faces I see around the Monastery, however, there are none that I recognize from the game. Probably shouldn’t be surprising, given that finding twenty-four specific people in a crowd whose numbers must be in the hundreds isn’t particularly easy.

Of course, with my job as Solon’s assistant, it’s not like I now have much free time to wander around. More students means more people coming to the library, which in turn means more work for me.

“Here it is, boy,” I say as I hand over a book titled ‘Tactics and Formations of the Faerghus Cavalry’ to - ironically - one of the Black Eagles students. Between that and his mannerisms, I’m assuming he’s of noble birth. Probably a minor noble since his family’s name didn’t ring a bell, but who knows? Maybe this ‘House Navarro’ (or whatever the name actually was)  _ is _ a big deal in the Empire’s bigger picture but not to the events of Three Houses.

“Thank you very much,” the boy replies, nodding with his head. At least he’s not a spoiled brat looking down on me.

“It’s no problem,” I nod back at him, “Have a pleasant day, boy,” I add.

“You too,” he simply replies before going his way. Not much for words, is he? Not that I’m complaining. Especially when I’m not either.

With that out of the way, I head back to Solon’s desk as usual. The mornings of this week have been pretty much the same for me: a student would come to Solon, he’d tell me where the book the student is looking for is, I’d either go pick up the book or the student would go with me, rinse and repeat.

Nothing too different from the first week I was here. It only surprises me that there are so many already when the lessons haven’t even begun yet. Makes me wonder how stressful the final months before graduation will be for these particular students. That is, if this wasn’t the year when there will be no graduation.

Moving on...

As I approach Solon’s desk, I quickly notice that he’s conversing with another student. Another student I’ll no doubt have to take care of right away. Yey, no rest for the wicked.

The first thing I notice of this student is that they seem particularly short. Probably a girl between that and the long...white hair…

Wait a minute…

“Ah, Eugenio, come over here, please,” Solon tells me upon noticing me, “I apologize for the abruptness, but I already have further need of you.”   
  
“It is no problem,” I reply while trying to steal a glance at the student. Let’s see, white hair, short, does she have pink eyes? Yep, she does.

So here’s the third student character I’ve come across so far: Lysithea von Ordelia. The little spitfire that serves as Three Houses’ version of the ‘I’m a grown-up, not a kid!’ character archetype. Of course, unlike other characters from that archetype, it’s not because she’s trying to get respect and/or attention, but because she wants to accomplish what she can with the little time she has left.

Goddammit, that's a messed up thing to consider. Even more so when it comes to a  _ fifteen _ year old.

“Greetings,” I nod at her. “I believe dis is de first time we’ve met. I’m Eugenio. What is your name, miss?”

A simple and to the point greeting, as usual. One of her eyebrows arches at hearing me speak, but that’s not unusual from one who’s meeting me for the first time. All is good for now.

“My name is Lysithea, from House Ordelia,” she replies, apparently not dwelling on my accent. Good, “I was looking for ‘Dark Arts and Crafts’ by Canas von Niime. Do you have it?”

That one? I remember one of the students of last year returning it. During what was the  _ end _ of the year. She already wants to study from that?

Eh, who knows? Maybe that student was just starting to delve into Dark Magic. Or maybe little miss “I can one-shot the Death Knight” is just  _ that _ good.

“Dat we do,” I wave for her to follow me, “Please come with me, girl.”

No sooner do I say that, her eyes widen and her face twists into a grimace “‘Girl’? I’m not a child, I’ll have you know!”

Oh, not this already…

“My apologies,  _ Miss _ Lysithea,” I hastily say, putting emphasis on the ‘miss’. I hope that is enough to calm her down before she starts one of her rants about her age, “But please do follow me.”

Thankfully, that does manage to simmer her down, with a pout being the only thing that remains on her face.

The light chuckle Solon is having while we walk away from him doesn’t escape me, though. Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, you creep. If she’s the one dealing the killing blow to you, we’ll see who’ll have the last laugh.

From there, the two of us proceed to the Reason wing, with me explaining to her how the tomes about Black and Dark Magic are divided and then showing her the way to the upper floor. Her pout immediately shifts to a more focused look, paying absolute attention to everything I say.

When we get to the Dark Magic section, it doesn’t take long for me to locate where the book she’s looking for is. However, every book in this library is kept on their bookshelf in alphabetical order. And since there are very few texts here that start with ‘a’, ‘b’ or ‘c’, ‘Dark Arts and Crafts’ is obviously on one of the shelves on the top.

“Give me a second,” I tell her as I go to grab a ladder. Which doesn’t take too long, and even less long to find the book and grab it.

“Here you go,”I say as I offer it to her, “I hope it proves useful, girl.”

Her face immediately goes back to a grimace, “I told you, don’t call me ‘girl’!”

Ugh…

“Sorry,” I reply “It’s just a bit of an habit of mine.”

  
  
“Well, maybe you should try to knock it off! Do you have any idea how disrespectful it is?”

To anyone who isn’t a little girl trying to act more mature than she actually is, it probably isn’t.

“Again, if it was disrespectful my apologies,” a smart person, knowing her situation, would have left it at that and saved themselves a headache. I am not a smart person “However, if I can offer some advice, maybe you should try not to get so worked up so easily. Dere will be many whose first instinct will be to call you ‘girl’ or ‘young one’ or something else like dat, but not all will mean it in a dismissive manner.”

The outraged glare she responds with is not the reaction I had hoped for “So that’s it? I’m just a kid who’s overstepping herself? Is that what you see?”

Whoa, whoa, whoa, let’s not jump to these conclusions here, “Of course not, girl, but…”

It’s when she angrily cuts me off that I realize my slip of the tongue, “I already told you not to call me that!”

I have to mentally sigh. Lysithea, I liked you in the game. You were the most kick-ass mage in general and my second favourite character among the Golden Deer. But good lord, are you making my life miserable right now.

“Sorry!” I hastily say again, “I didn’t mean to…”   
  
“I should hope so!” and again, she cuts me off, “If there’s one thing I hate, it’s being treated like a child!”

Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it…

“From one person dat was de youngest of deir year to de oder, let me tell you: some people tinking of you as ‘de kid’ is not so bad. And it doesn’t mean dey tink less of you for it.”

She launches a glare so intense I think one of her veins is about to burst. Crap. When will I ever learn to shut up with my ‘feedback’?

“How dare you, you insufferable buffoon!” she all but shouts. “Maybe instead of making fun of me, you should be more concerned with making yourself useful around here.”

…

“Now,” she continues in a less intense tone, “I have other more important things to do than being mocked by some dim-witted oaf.”

After that final jab she takes the tome, turns around and leaves.

…

_ Maybe instead of making fun of me, you should be more concerned with making yourself useful around here _

_ You should be more concerned with making yourself useful _

_ Making yourself useful _

" _ Make myself useful _ ?" I repeat the words in my mind.

You little...! I've already got enough on my plate as is!

I'm already doing my best trying to escape this godforsaken continent on the verge of total war! I'm already trying to survive this damned Monastery, with its two scaly control freaks and the repulsive snake watching my every move! I'm already trying to help you people by not interfering with your coming future!

I am not a damn failure! Do you hear me, brat?! I am not!

...I am not, right?

* * *

“I noticed young Lysithea storm away from the library,” is the first thing Solon tells me once I’m back. “Between that and the shouting I heard, I take it there has been an argument between the two of you?”

“You could say dat,” I reply between gritted teeth, “Her age is a  _ very _ soft spot, apparently,” that fork-tongued urchin.

“I see,” the old man chuckles yet again, “She has always been a handful to deal with.”

I would like nothing more than to tell this worm to choke on his own laughing at this. To pick his cane and shove it down his throat. To go to Remire and let the innocents he’s going to harm tear him to pieces.

But I don’t. Whatever I say, I can never take back. And I have no way of knowing how it would get back at me.

“You’re acquainted wit her?” I instead opt to ask. Which does seem strange to hear. If I remember the game correctly, the brat said she’d never actually met Tomas in person before Garreg Mach. Why would Solon compromise his cover by contradicting that?

“Not exactly,” he replies, “Before I ever came to work at Garreg Mach, I served her house. She was born before my return. And during my time there, I never actually had the chance to meet her personally, due to a...tense situation between House Ordelia and the Empire.”

Let me guess, that ‘tense situation’ is related to that mess with House Hrym. Not surprising considering the part you and your buddies played in it.

“However,” his lips curve more upwards than I’ve ever seen them do before. The resulting smile feels more sinister than the ones he usually dones “A friend of mine told me about her. About how she was a willful child who rarely listened. It took him quite some time to make her behave.”

‘Make her behave’? What is that supposed to mean? Where is this coming from? And why is he smiling like…?

Solon, you sick fuck. This friend of yours is one of your fellow Slitherers who experimented on her, isn’t he?

“Hopefully she won’t make life for de professors here as miserable as your friend’s,” is all I manage to reply with. Anything else would let slip that I understood what he truly meant.

His grin quickly returns to the normal (and fake) smile I’m used to seeing from him, “Indeed.”

That is thankfully where the conversation ends. I take the following silence to try and calm my nerves. If I snap at a student in this state, I will fired from this and lose any chance I have to return home. And that’s if I’m lucky.

The two students that come to us next provide a nice distraction. Even though one of them is the one student in the entire Academy that is as dangerous to be around as Solon.

“Good morning, Tomas,” Edelgard greets the librarian before turning to me, “And you as well, Mister...Eugenio, was it?”

And judging by the purple hair kept in a braided ponytail, the tanned complexion and the tattoo below her right eye, the other girl must be Petra Macneary. Three Houses’ amalgamation of Lyn and Athena, not to mention princess of the Brigid archipelago that the Empire made their hostage.

Okay. I had better shape up here. This is my first actual interaction with the main villain of Three Houses. If I lose my cool in front of Petra, I can take it. But the Flame Emperor is someone I must absolutely  _ not _ make an enemy of.

“Dat is correct,” I greet the two of them, forcing the best smile I can right now, “A pleasure to make your acquaintances, girls.”

Fuck, not the ‘girl’ thing again…

“Indeed,” Solon intervenes “It is a pleasure to see you again, Princess,”

‘Again’? As in ‘I publicly I admit we’ve met before’? Has Edelgard been to Garreg Mach before now? Or is Solon actually  _ that _ careless?

“And who is this friend of yours?” he continues, turning to Petra.

The Brigid girl’s posture stiffens at Solon’s question, “I am named Petra, master librarians,” she then makes a deep bow “I have pleasure...it is a pleasure to be meeting you as well.”

Ah, you sweet summer child. You’ve got a long way ahead of you learning this jackass of a language.

“The pleasure is ours, Miss Petra,” Solon replies for both, “How may we be of assistance?”

Petra is the first to speak, “I was looking for a dictionary. Lady Edelgard said the library is holding many of them.”

Ah, dictionaries. The best friends of us non-native speakers.

“And I had some questions about a few of the texts here,” Edelgard follows “Would you mind if I asked them to you, Tomas?”

‘Questions about texts’, eh? Is that what it’s really about or does it involve one of your plots?

“Of course, Princess,” Solon answers before turning to me, “Eugenio, the dictionaries can be found at the literature wing,” that one? Got it, “Would you kindly show them to Miss Petra?”

“Sure,” I reply before turning to the Brigid princess, “Please follow me.”

She and I then proceed to the literature wing, leaving the other two to their schemes.

As we walk, there’s one thing about Petra that catches my attention: the kind of sound she makes with her steps. Or rather, the eerie lack thereof, even with her heeled boots. Can take the girl away from the hunting culture, but can’t take the hunting culture away from the girl, I see.

In any case, while the dictionaries are kept in the section dedicated, they are all on a bookshelf of their own. Which makes them pretty easy to find.

“Here we are,” I tell Petra, pointing at said bookshelf. Now, one last thing to ask, “Were you looking for a specific one?”

“No,” the girl replies while she glances at each and every book, “I did not think there were so many,” she turns to me, “Do you have a recommendation?”

Uh...I don’t actually have any idea of the differences among them. No idea which would be most Brigid-friendly.

“Give me a moment to tink,” is the only answer I can give her.

Assuming Rhea wasn’t a control freak on this as well, the language spoken by the locals must have evolved across the centuries, so I’m probably looking for the most recent ones. But how can I tell which are those? 

Covers are usually worn down by either time or usage. So if I go by that, I should exclude the ones too worn down (because that should be a sign they’re probably not up to date anymore) and the ones in the best condition (which would mean the newest ones but that no one has touched like ever).

There are a few that are somewhere in the middle, but it’s still too broad of a selection.

“What was de one you used in de Imperial palace?”

A look of surprise comes over her face as I ask that. What did I say? 

“Are you knowing...you know I lived there?”

Oh, crap. How do I justify this now? Wait, I did think she had a kind of exotic look compared to the other Eagles even before Intelligent System released her bio. Could I play that card?

“Well, more like I  _ guessed _ it,” I explain to her, “Between dat tattoo of yours and de way you speak, it’s pretty obvious you’re not from Fódlan. Considering dat you seem to have a rapport wit de Imperial princess, I assumed you’d lived at de palace for a time. Was I wrong?”

“You are not,” she replies with an impressed glint in her eyes, “I have...I am surprised. Not many would understand it so easily.”

I respond with a shrug, “Working at a library means you need to be de observant type,” of course, it helps that I knew beforehand.

Petra’s brow furrows in confusion, “‘Observant’? Do you mean because you watch over the books?”

I mentally sigh at that question. Poor Petra.

“I meant dat I notice tings easily,” which is bullshit, but serviceable for what I said so far, “Like you would need to notice marks left by your prey during a hunting trip back in your homeland.”

Surprise comes to Petra’s face once again “You know where I come from?”

Aww, crap times two. Why am I letting things slip so easily today?

“De two nations closest to de Empire are Brigid and Dagda,” I try to explain, “And you look more like a native of Brigid dan of Dagda.”

A small, sheepish smile washes away Petra’s surprise, “You are forgetting about Mach,” about what now? “But you are right. I am from Brigid. The princess in fact.”

Ok, that’s the one detail I can’t pretend to have a reason for already knowing. Gotta play it safe here.

“Oh!” I say in fake surprise, “My apologies, your highness. I did not know.”

“Peace, Eugenio,” Petra replies “I am not your ruler.”

“Even in a foreign land, you’re still royalty,” I reply, “Aren’t you due de resulting respect?”

“I...suppose so,” the way she says that is hesitant. Like she isn’t sure what she should be answering. Does she think I was mocking her with that last bit?

It isn’t long, however, before she’s back to her usual stoic self, “Since I’ve shared so much, would you be sharing something with me too?”

Uh...what? Where is this coming from? What could she want to know about me?

“...sure?” I answer.

“The way you speak sounds...strange,” the way I speak? “It is like...like your voice is trying to sound...something it is not,” oh, my accent! Of course she of all people would want to know about that! “Where do you come from?”

Boy have I ever been more grateful for Rhea providing a cover for me.

“I come from Varholm, a village in de County of Gloucester,” I reply, “De way I speak is because of de dialect we use dere.”

“Oh,” she arches an eyebrow, “I see.”

She stands there for some more time, her gaze fixated on me. Scrutinizing me. Scrutinizing for what, I have no idea. Her expression is about as readable as a stone wall.

Although the arched eyebrow gives me the feeling something about my cover doesn’t convince her.

“Huh, could you answer de question I made earlier?” I ask, perhaps too abruptly, hoping it will stir her attention away from me.

“Ah, my apologies. You were asking which dictionary I used at the palace, did you not?”

“Indeed.”

Thankfully, everything else proceeds much more smoothly from there. She gives me the name of the author of the dictionary she had in Enbarr, I look through the various copies on the bookshelf, find one by the same author, give it to her and then we share our goodbyes.

Good God, I did not think the ‘actually an Alliance accent’ thing would not fly with her of all people. Makes me wonder how that would go down with Dedue or - I have to gulp - Claude.

Ok, that’s it. I’m gonna keep the upside down boy as far away from me as possible. Between his natural paranoia, his compulsive need to know everything and...whatever it was that made Petra doubt my story, he’d call out my bullshit in an instant. And then I’d be fucked.

* * *

It’s the 7th day of the Great Tree Moon (still a mouthful) today. From what I gathered from Alois and the others, all the students have arrived at this point. Which means the first thing happening today is the opening ceremony of this new year.

“Students,” Rhea begins, extending her arms widely, “I, Archbishop Rhea, welcome you to the Officers’ Academy.”

“Can you remind me why I had to be here for dis?” I whisper to the three Knights standing to my left.

We are all gathered within the cathedral. And when I say ‘all’ I mean ‘all the people residing at the Monastery’. The clergy, the Knights, the workers, the students, everyone.

The students are in the center of the cathedral, with Rhea and her ever-by-her-side brother standing in front of them on the side of the altar. Captain Friedrich, a couple more of his Knights and some priests have formed a semicircle around those two, but the rest are staying to the sidelines. Which is where I and everyone else are right now.

In my case, not by choice, of course. I learned of this ceremony only this morning from Catherine. Then I told her to enjoy it, then she asked why I wouldn’t be coming, then I told her I wasn’t interested and then she decided it was a good idea to drag my ass here herself.

“I told you, this is one of the most important ceremonies here,” the blonde in question whispers back, “It’s imperative that we are all present.”

“Is it?” I shoot back “Most of de people here will not have anyting to do wit de students.”

“It’s better you participate than having to listen to a lecture from Seteth about propriety,” Shamir sighs, “Trust me.”

“Alright,” I sigh as well, which prompts Catherine to roll her eyes.

“Shh,” one of the priests admonishes the three of us.

“It is my extreme honor and joy to see so many promising youths all come together,” Rhea continues “Truly, the Goddess smiles on us all with such a gift.”

The ‘Goddess’ is sleeping within the head of a mercenary whose life you saved so they could become her new host body, greenhead. If she’s smiling, it’s only because she’s dreaming of better times.

“Each of you has come here for their own reasons. Some to expand their knowledge. Others to hone their skills. And others still for many other reasons.”

One’s reason for being here is getting revenge on his family’s murders. Another one’s is unveiling your secrets. And yet another one is here to destroy everything you built.

“But regardless of why you came here or which walks of life you come from, you are all the future of Fódlan.”

A future that, regardless of what Byleth will do, will be your undoing.

“Now, let us pray for a prosperous year, where we can all benefit from the Goddess’ favor,” she concludes.

Everyone quickly proceeds to take some kind of praying position after that. Some, like Catherine and Alois, go all the way with their hands. Others, like Shamir, simply bow their heads.

And since even other Knights limit themselves to just that, I opt to do the latter. I’m not really a religious type, but better pretending to believe in this nonsense than being singled out as a heathen.

What happens after the prayer is straight-forward enough. Rhea announces that each student will receive their class schedule later today, that the lessons will begin tomorrow, that they will first begin with shared exercises and then a bunch of other stuff I already know from the game. A professor to supervise each of the Houses, a mission with the Knights at the end of each month, etcetera etcetera.

It is at that point that my thoughts drift away from the ceremony and to the one thing that truly concerns me.

Soon it will happen. Three Houses’ plot will begin. Byleth will join the Monastery. Edelgard will set her plans in motion. Dimitri will begin his downward spiral towards insanity. Claude will start his schemes.

And I will be here for it all.

* * *

[Edelgard]

_ “I see you have found an assistant since the last time I was here,” is the first thing I say once Petra and ‘Eugenio’ are out of earshot. _

_ When Hubert told me about a stranger staring at us upon our arrival, I had originally thought he was reading too much into it. How wrong I realized I was when he told me that not only was that stanger a known worker of the Monastery, but the assistant of ‘Tomas’’ no less.  _

_ “Indeed,” the repulsive creature wearing Tomas’ skin chuckles “An unexpected help, but a welcome one.” _

_ “Is that so? How was it unexpected?” Was it a decision my uncle made behind my back? Or something else? _

_ “A few weeks ago, Seteth came to me, told me of a new worker Garreg Mach had recently acquired. He said he would be assigned to work with me.” _

_ Interesting. So this man gained this position through Seteth’s recommendation. Not through Those Who Slither in the Dark. And if Solon were lying, he would not have given such an easy to dismantle lie. _

_ However, was Seteth’s reasoning for doing that what he claimed? Or was it something else? _

_ “As I understand, you’ve been serving as the librarian for many years. Why would he assign someone to help you now?” _

_ Of course, Solon catches the real meaning of my words: ‘ _ Is he here to spy on you? _ ’ _

_ “I suppose he just wanted to ease my burdens. I did return from retirement after all.” _

_ “I see,” I really do. Whatever the reasons are, he is not concerned with it. Meaning the Church suspects nothing. Or so he believes. _

_ If that is the case, there is nothing to be done about this ‘Eugenio’ for now. Only hope he doesn’t snoop into business that doesn’t concern him. _

_ Still, the Church would not assign just anyone to a place as important as the library. Least of all their latest acquisition. An acquisition that even Hubert could find nothing about. _

_ He apparently just showed up at Garreg Mach one day and quickly came into the good graces of two of the most important Knights of Seiros: Sir Alois, one of the three Knight-Lieutenants, and ‘Thunder’ Catherine, the disgraced heir of House Charon and wielder of Thunderbrand. Anything about his life before that moment is nowhere to be found. It isn’t hidden, it literally does not exist. _

_ While I think about that, my gaze drifts towards Petra and Eugenio. I am slightly surprised to see the two are locked in a conversation, rather than looking for the dictionary. A conversation Petra seems particularly engaged into. What could the two be talking about? _

_ “...you would need to notice marks left by your prey during a hunting trip back in your homeland.” _

_ What? _

_ “You know where I come from?” _

_ “De two nations closest to de Empire are Brigid and Dagda. And you look more like a native of Brigid dan of Dagda.” _

_ “You are forgetting about Mach. But you are right. I am from Brigid. The princess in fact.” _

_ “Oh! My apologies, your highness. I did not know.” _

_ “Peace, Eugenio. I am not your ruler.” _

_ “Even in a foreign land, you’re still royalty. Aren’t you due de resulting respect?” _

_ “I...suppose so.” _

_ Interesting. So despite meeting her for the first time, he was quickly able to determine her origins. And not only that, he was able to make a comparison to Brigid’s culture. That should mean he’s either lived close to foreigners for a long time or he’s just very knowledgeable of their cultures. Perhaps he’s of noble birth? _

_ “Since I’ve shared so much, would you be sharing something with me too?” _

_ “...sure?” _

_ “The way you speak sounds...strange. It is like...like your voice is trying to sound...something it is not. Where do you come from?” _

_ Ah, yes. His accent. An accent that Hubert said was similar to one from the Alliance but was not quite the same. An accent so thick that could only come from a lifetime of speaking an entirely different language. Like Petra herself. _

_ “I come from Varholm, a village in de County of Gloucester. De way I speak is because of de dialect we use dere.” _

_ Nonsense. And from the way Petra is looking at him, I suspect she realizes that too. _

_ It seems I will have to be careful around this Eugenio, after all. Something else is going on here. Something that is best to keep an eye on. Perhaps Solon is right and he is irrelevant, but my goals are too important to risk with such a trivial oversight. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was chapter 7. We are finally introduced to some of the student characters. Eugenio hits it off with some, with others...not so much.
> 
> Did you want to see more of the student characters? Don't worry, there'll be more in the next chapter. Is that coming out soon?...we'll see.
> 
> I would like to thank LowerBlack and16th-Beat once again for betareading. Also thank you to LowerBlack for helping with Lysithea's scene, mixedvalence and 16-th Beat with the Edelgard pov and DestructionDragon360 with Petra's speech patterns. I owe you guys a lot.
> 
> Come join us on the TreeHouse Discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> I'll see you guys next time!


	8. Chapter 8-In The Name of Crestology

“So, let me get dis straight, Professor,” I ask Hanneman, “Spells like Miasma are a sort of ‘putrification magic’ dat are meant to corrode de target’s body. And if de caster is not careful while conjuring, dey run de risk of giving themselves tumors?”

“Precisely,” Hanneman replies matter of factly.

Jesus frigging Christ Dark Magic is sounding creepier and creepier by the minute.

“Dat sounds incredibly dangerous,” to put it mildly, “Why would anyone sane take such risks?”

“While the raw power of Dark Magic involves greater risks than Black Magic, its solely offensive nature makes it more powerful than most Black Magic spells. So the risks come with better performance on the battlefield.”

A dry look is all I can reply with to his impassive statement.

“Mind you, I agree it isn’t worth the risk. But the fact is, there are many who don’t share that sentiment.”

Like our favourite Adrestian vampire, who cares more about getting results for Edelgard’s cause than his own health. While...the brat...is already dying, so her health is not as relevant to her as it normally would be.

“I see,” I simply tell Hanneman “Do oder types of Dark Magic spells involve oder risks?”

“It depends,” is the mage’s reply “The tumors are the most widespread side effect, but not the most likely in some cases. For example, Mire’s is the embrittlement of the user’s bones. Swarm’s is a chronic inflammation of the muscles. Banshee’s is a loss of feeling in the limbs. Im…”

“I tink I get it,” I cut him off before he gives me any more nightmare fuel. Holy shit, if the Slitherers really focus on Dark Magic as much as the game suggested, it’s a wonder they haven’t died out already.

“As you can assume,” Hanneman then continues “Dark Magic is not something I usually teach to beginners. The most common of mistakes can lead to more disastrous results than Black or Faith.”

No kidding. If this was your way of telling me ‘We’ll leave Dark Magic out for now, and I won’t take any objection’, you had already convinced me with the side effects alone. ‘More powerful’ is neat and all, but I’d rather not get permanent body damage out of this research, thank you very much.

“I understand,” I reply, to which he nods with a look of approval on his face.

“Excellent,” is his following comment, “Despite the delays, now that we’ve gone through these parts of magical theory, we should be able to start practicing actual spellcasting soon.”

Ah, that’s some good news. Ever since the opening ceremony, he and I have had to meet less frequently, with him busy with lessons for the students and me with library work. But if he thinks I’m ready to practice proper spellcasting, it means we’re finally making some progress.

Not to mention the obvious: me actually casting spells. If anything, that should be interesting.

“In dat case, what do you need me to do for next time?” I ask Hanneman.

“Choose one of the spells from the Beginner level,” he replies “Study thoroughly their incantation. Next time, we’ll practice how to cast it.”

Ah, yes. One of the things he explained was the division of the spells into four levels of complexity: Beginner, Intermediate, Advanced and Master. The same as the classes from the game, funnily enough.

From the Beginner level spells he explained during our meetings, I recognized four from the game: Fire, Thunder, Wind and Blizzard. Guess I could try one of them. Although which of them, I’ll probably need to give more thought.

“Understood, Professor,” I tell him, “Is dat all?”

His posture shifts slightly at my question, “Well, there _ is _ one more thing. Although it isn’t related to your studies.”

Oh? What could that be?

“I’m currently trying to organize meetings with students whose possession or lack of a Crest is not documented,” Ah, of course you’d do that “Considering how many such students are, however, I could use some help.”

‘Considering how many’? Isn’t having a Crest a big deal around here? Why would the nobles not have such things checked?

“Who are dese students you need to test?”

  
  
“Mostly those who come from common origins,” Ah “But also a few of noble birth who, for one reason or another, have not been tested for Crests yet.”

There are nobles who haven’t had their Crest-bearing status checked? “Such as?”

“The first example I can think of would be Ashe Ubert, the adoptive son of Lord Lonato Gaspard, a minor noble of the Kingdom. He’s originally of common birth, and Lord Lonato has never made it known if he bears a Crest or not. Or even if he ever had him tested.”

Ah, yes. The Blue Lions’ cinnamon roll boy who started off as an orphan turned thief in order to provide for his younger siblings. Which, I guess, isn’t common knowledge. Or maybe Hanneman is intentionally leaving that out.

“Another would be Lysithea von Ordelia. Her family was involved in a rebellion within the Empire. A rebellion that failed, leading to the loss of most of their authority. And because of that, the Ordelia never had the chance to have her tested.”

Oh, wait until you find out the little punk bears _ two _ Crests.

“Alright,” I concede, “So what exactly do you need me to do?”

His hand goes to one of his jacket’s pockets and extracts a folded piece of paper, “This is a list of the Blue Lions students I need to meet and some of the Golden Deer. They are listed alongside a date and hour for a possible meeting. If in the next few days you can meet with them and see if they’re available, I would be most grateful.”

Just meet the students and confirm with set up those meetings for them? Sound simple enough. Although after what happened with Petra, I need to be careful around the foreign ones. And considering he did test me and Shamir, the chances of foreign students being on this list are very high.

Thankfully there should only be two students that are known foreigners: Petra and Dedue. The former is an Eagle, so she shouldn’t be on the list. But the latter is a Lion, so there’s a 100% chance he’s on it. 

“So I just go to dem, say ‘Are you free on dis day for dat hour?’ and dat’s it?”

“Indeed.”

Ok, then if I’m quick about it and considering Dedue is rather reserved by nature he shouldn’t get too suspicious. I hope.

“Very well, Professor,” I offer my hand and Hanneman quickly hands over the sheet, “Anyting else I should know?”

“For this month, lessons are only in the morning, so they should be all easier to find in the afternoon,” Ah, that’s good, “And should any of the students not be able to attend during the timeframe I proposed, try to see if you can switch it with another who can.”

“Understood.”

“Then, that is all,” he nods at me “Have a pleasant evening, Eugenio.”

I nod back “You as well, Professor.”

With that said, I leave Hanneman’s office. Considering the hour we’ve made I should just head straight for the dining hall and have dinner. But instead, I decide midway on the way there to have a look at the list.

It is very likely I will not recognize most of the names on it. Besides Ashe and Dedue, the other playable Lions were all known Crest-bearers. The only exception to that could be Mercedes, depending on whether or not her having one was recorded before she and her mom had to flee to Faerghus.

The Deers, however, I’m not sure who to expect. Especially since it’s apparently not all of them. Claude, Hilda and Lorenz all having Crest should already be known (thank God!), but everyone else I’m not sure. Raphael, Ignatz and Leonie are all commoners, so the three of them are most definitely candidates. If memory serves me right, the game said Marianne’s adoptive father made sure which Crest she bore was kept hidden. And Lysithea…

God, please tell me she’s not one of the Deers on this list. I don’t want to have to deal with her again.

Unfolding the sheet, I glance at the various names.

They are kept in alphabetical order, with the actual names followed by their House written in parenthesis and then by a day and hour, both which variate greatly from one student to the next. First I’m reading of sites to meet Hanneman in the late afternoon of the twenty-fourth, then another one on the twenty-first at the same hour, and one more during the twenty fourth but much earlier.

The logic with which Hanneman organizes his timetable eludes me.

Going through the names, Raphael’s is the first one I recognize from the game.

Under the names starting with ‘M’, I do find Dedue but not Mercedes. Guess her Lamine Crest _ was _ recorded.

The brat’s name is also not among those starting with ‘O’, thank goodness.

Among those starting with ‘P’ I don’t see Leonie. No hearing about her Jeralt obsession, it seems.

Ashe is the last name on the list that I recognize. No sign whatsoever of Ignatz among the names starting with ‘V’.

So, that makes it three of the playable characters. Could have been worse, all things considered. A meek boy that will probably think it’s rude to ask about my accent, a big guy that isn’t bright enough to call my bullshit and the Duscur giant.

Although actually finding them and the others will be a problem in and of itself. Perhaps I can have Solon help me out at the library in case any of these students show up there. He shouldn’t find it suspicious if I help Hanneman do his Crestology stuff.

That’ll be tomorrow, though. For now, I’ve got a dinner to get to.

I fold the sheet again and proceed to the dining hall.

* * *

“Before we get you that, son, there is one thing I wanted to ask.”

“Uh...sure?” the Golden Deer student Solon is talking to replies, a confused look in his eyes.

“Your full name is Alan Wright. Is that correct?”

“Yes?”

Solon turns to me “Is he on the list?”

“Nope,” I reply as I check the names starting with ‘a’, “He’s not.”

“Wait, what list?” the boy asks.

“It is nothing to worry about, son,” Solon reassures him, “We are simply sorting through some students Professor Hanneman wanted to see.”

The confusion on the boy’s face doesn’t go away at that, “I see…”

What happens after is the usual routine: I accompany the boy to the bookshelves, I pick up the book he needs and he then goes about his business.

He isn’t the first student Solon and I checked if they were on the list, though. Solon offering this kind of help right after telling him of the errand I had to do was unexpected, but not useless considering I’ve managed to find some of the students on the list. The old mole really knows how to be helpful with more than just words when he wants.

More students keep coming by as the day progresses. Some of them are on the list, but the majority is not. Guess I’ll have to actually go looking around for the others this afternoon, huh?

Of course, not all of the students actually pass by the counter. Some of them simply go looking at the bookshelves themselves or sit at the tables to study.

One such student I notice in the literature wing as I look around is the freckled gray-haired archer of the Blue Lions.

“Tomas,” I whisper to the would-be librarian as I point at him “Dat student over dere has been here before, right?”

Which is true. Across these days some more of the student characters from the game showed up here. Although I’ve never had the need to converse with them besides ‘Hi, I need this book’.

“I believe so. I think he said his name was Ashe.”

“Ashe Ubert, perhaps?”

Solon pauses a moment in thought before continuing, “I think so, yes,” he turns back to me “Is he on the list?”

“Yes,” I confirm.

Solon quirks an eyebrow at my answer “Shouldn’t you check the list to be sure?”

What?

Oh, right. He doesn’t know I already recognized him from the game. Damn my clumsiness.

Fortunately I have a good excuse to cover up this slip up.

“Professor Hanneman pointed him out to me as an example of what kind of students I’d be dealing wit. He’s a commoner adopted by a minor Faerghus lord, if I remember correctly.”

Solon’s expression quickly goes back to normal at that, “That he is. The eldest of three adopted by Lord Lonato. News of that caused a bit of a commotion when they broke out.”

Did that commotion really reach the Alliance or does he know that because of the rat-faced redhead that’s gonna stab the royal family in the back, or maybe he’s slipping?

Considering I just got out of a slip up of my own, it’s probably better not to ask.

“If I leave de list here while I go talking to him, can you take care of anyone else?” I opt to ask instead.

“Of course,” he replies, “But maybe check the day and time Professor Hanneman proposed?”

I almost facepalm at that, “Right, tank you.”

After quickly checking the list, I’m off to talk with Ashe, who is sitting by his lonesome, avidly reading a book titled ‘The Sword of Kyphon’. A name that sounds familiar, even though I don’t recall taking it up for the students before.

“Excuse me, boy,” I tell Ashe.

He just keeps reading.

“Boy?”

Still no response.

I try touching his shoulder, “Boy?”

That thankfully works “Uh? Oh!” he exclaims as he notices me, “My apologies, Mister Eugenio. How long have you been there?”

“I arrived just now,” my gaze drifts to the book he is holding, “I take it you found an engaging read?”

“Yes, sorry,” Ashe chuckles while rubbing his messy hair, “It’s a biographical novel about Sir Kyphon, one of King Loog’s closest friends and a paragon of chivalry.”

Heh. Faerghus and their ‘chivalry’. Good at preaching it, good at applying it when it comes to being lapdogs and dying for their liege lord, not so much when someone says ‘A group of foreign bandits killed our king so the obvious response is genocide’.

But I’m not here to debate about that.

“Very interesting,” I comment, hopefully not sounding as off-handed as I mean it, “In any case, I need to ask something of you on Professor Hanneman’s behalf.”

His eyes widen at my statement “Professor Hanneman? Is it about my performance during his classes?”

I shake my head, “No. He wants to test wheder you have a Crest or not.”

“A...Crest?” he hesitantly asks, “Me?”

“Yes,” I reply, “De Professor is interested in knowing dat for his research in Crestology.”

Ashe’s brow furrows in confusion at that, “But does he know I’m not of noble birth?” I nod at that, “Why me specifically?”

“It’s not you specifically,” I correct “He’s asking all students whose possession or not of Crests is unknown.”

  
  
That is all it takes for his face to go back to its usual cheerful self, “Ah, I see. My apologies for making assumptions.”

  
  
“It’s ok,” I reassure him, “Is de twenty fourt at five in de afternoon a good time?”

He nods, “Sure.”

“Good. Den I’ll leave you to your” _ hypocritical _ “engaging novel.”

“Thank you.”

I leave him on that note and head back to Solon’s counter. One more student down, more to go.

* * *

As I expected, by the time lunch break comes, a good chunk of the students on the list has not shown up at the library. Of course, the students that didn’t come today might come another day, but that still leaves me with the job of looking around the Monastery for them during this afternoon.

Funnily enough, one of the first on the list is Dedue of all people. He is also probably gonna be one of the hardest to find. With his Duscur heritage, I bet most want to stay as far away from him as possible. And they’d probably tell me to do the same. Bigots.

Well, that’s not entirely right. There is one person who could tell me where he is. The one friend he has here: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. The poor guy who had to watch everyone he ever loved being butchered in front of his eyes at the tender age of thirteen by the Slitherers and would henceforth be haunted by the dead. A torment that in all routes, in one way or another, he will have to carry to his grave.

Guess I’d better do this double search before focusing on anyone else. At least Dimitri should be known enough among the Blue Lions that any of them can point him to me.

And, sure enough, the first Blue Lion I run into tells me he’s seen him near the greenhouse. Excellent.

Even better is that when I reach the greenhouse, he’s coming out of it. Looks like I’m just in time.

“Excuse me?” I say once I get close to him, “Prince Dimitri?”

The boy is clearly startled, but he manages to recompose easily enough, “Yes? Can I help you, sir?”

“My name is Eugenio,” I introduce myself, “I’m running an errand for Professor Hanneman. He wants to test your retainer for Crests.”

“Dedue?” he asks surprised “I’m sorry, but he’s native to Duscur. Is Professor Hanneman aware of that?”

“He is,” I reply “But he wants to test him anyway. Says it’s in case he had ‘a Crest-bearing ancestor of mixed descent,” at least, that’s what Shamir said he told her.

Dimitri arches an eyebrow at that.

“Don’t ask me, I’m just de messenger.”

He proceeds to wince at my words, “Ah, my apologies Mister Eugenio. I did not mean to offend.”

“It’s okay, b…” I bite my tongue before I finish the sentence “I mean, your highness.”

“Please, no need for formalities here,” he chuckles “I’m just a student here. Same as everyone else.”

Huh, guess his humility towards his honorifics extends past his classmates and professors. Works for me.

“Very well, boy,” I reply, “So, can you take me to your retainer?”

“Of course,” the blonde responds with a smile on his face, “I just left him inside the greenhouse.”

Ah, so that’s why he was here. Makes sense. While I don’t remember Dimitri particularly caring for gardening, Dedue was like the most green-loving character in the game (after, depending on how you look at it, Byleth).

“Please follow me,” the prince adds before re-entering the structure.

Funny thing about the greenhouse: for all the time I’ve been at Garreg Mach, this is the first time I’ve ever set foot inside. All I remember from its in-game counterpart is that it was used to farm items. If the real thing is anything like, I’m assuming they grow medical plants and vegetables here. Maybe also some flowers, considering what some of Dedue’s supports implied.

How far off the mark I am, I don’t exactly get to see. The section of the greenhouse at the entrance turns out to be where flowers and some more ‘decorative’ plants are kept. But Dimitri says Dedue is here in this section, so we don’t get any further. Oh, well.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for the two of us to find Dedue watering some flower pots, bit hard to miss a giant like him.

What catches my eye about him, however, is not that, surprisingly. It’s his hair color. While the game made it look like it was as white as Edelgard, the live thing is clearly a platinum blonde. Which only makes it clearer how unnatural Edelgard’s was. Goddammit girl, how do you explain it away to everyone?

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

Huh?

“Is this a Duscur monkey, Paul?”

“More like a gorilla, Chris.”

I turn in the directions the two voices came from and find two Blue Lions students. One is a tall (not as much as Dedue) dark-haired with a sinister smirk on his face. The other one is a bluehead that reaches the other’s shoulders in height and is glaring daggers at Dedue.

Oh, great. A pair of self-entitled anti-Duscur pieces of shit.

“May I help you?” Dedue, who has also tilted his head in their direction, asks.

“Yeah, you brute,” the bluehead hisses, “You can tell me how you did it.”

“How I did what?”

“How you convinced the Prince to spare you!” the bluehead snarls, “How you convinced him not to tear you limb from limb like the beast you are!”

Wow, this douche is not subtle at all about his hatred, is he? Although, if his words affect Dedue in any way, he doesn’t show it and merely turns back to the flowers he’s watering.

The taller student’s smirk widens as his companion raises a fist, “Answer me, you…!”

“Ahem,” Dimitri, whose brow has now furrowed, intervenes “Is there a problem here?”

Immediately, the smirk fades away from the taller student’s face. The blueheaded one does not lower his fist, but his glare wavers in front of his future ruler.

“Your Highness!” he exclaims, “I...I…”

“Any problem you may have with Dedue, Paul, you can discuss with me,” he cuts him off, “So please, go on. I’m all ears.”

The first thing ‘Paul’ does is lowering his fist. Then, he launches Dedue one last glare. And then he storms away.

Dimitri then turns to the other guy, “Anything to add, Christopher?”

“...no, nothing, Your Highness,” ‘Christopher bows ever so slightly, “Good day,” and then he’s also off.

Pathetic bullies, those two.

With them out of the way, Dimitri’s face immediately relaxes, “Are you alright, Dedue?” he asks his retainer.

“I’m fine, Your Highness,” the big guy replies, “They had not been here long.”

“So I saw,” Dimitri crosses his arms, “It seems Christopher is choosing more and more aggressive associates.”

That statement confuses me. ‘Associates’? What exactly just happened? What is that tall student up to?

“I take it incidents like dis one are common?” I ask the two boys.

Dedue, who apparently has noticed me only now, turns his gaze to me while Dimitri sighs, “Unfortunately, yes. I’m sorry you had to see that, Mister Eugenio.”

“Exactly what is it dis ‘Christopher’ does?”

“His name is Christopher Pascal Kleiman,” Dimitri replies, “He’s the youngest son of Viscount Kleiman.”

That tells me nothing.

“The one overseeing the land that was once Duscur,” Dedue explains.

Oh…

“I assume dat means he’s not fond of de prince having a Duscur retainer.”

“He’s not,” Dimitri sighs, “And he’s made his displeasure known with actions like this one time and again.”

Meaning that by this guy ‘choosing accomplices’, they meant he recruits someone that is more reckless than him and just lets them try to start trouble with Dedue while he eats popcorn on the sidelines. Petty coward.

“You should do someting about dis,” I argue, “Behaviour like dis should not go unpunished.”

“What would you have me do?”

“Try to put some fear into him,” the one thing people like him ever understand, “Treaten to take drastic actions if he doesn’t stop. For example, does Faerghus' law not consider treats to a royal retainer and attempts to undermine de prince as treason?”

A bewildered look comes to the faces of both students. Does that really sound so unreasonable?

Dimitri is the first to recover of the two, “I’m sorry, but even if I thought his behaviour was bad enough to warrant such drastic measures, a jury would not condemn him without proof when it’s others doing the dirty work. I know this and so does he.”

So Dimitri and Dedue have their hands tied while this scum does what he pleases. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“In any case, you didn’t come here to worry about Faerghus politics,” Dimitri intervenes before turning to his retainer “Dedue, he wanted to talk with you.”

What follows is simple enough: Dimitri introduces me and Dedue to one another properly, I tell Dedue about Hanneman’s request, he’s confused by it, I reassure him there’s nothing to worry about and he accepts the proposed timeframe.

Throughout it all, though, I can’t help but wonder how cathartic it would be to cut off a certain smug snake’s smile from his face.

* * *

A couple days later, I’ve managed to sort out almost all of the students Hanneman wanted to meet, thankfully without anyone having particular problems with when the mage proposed.

Now, I have only one more person to talk with and then I’ll be finished: Raphael. The simple-minded jock from the Golden Deer whose only interests in life are building muscles and eating meat.

Which, of course, means he can be most likely found in one of two places: the training grounds or the dining hall. And considering right now it’s just past lunch time, my money is on the former.

With that in mind, I go straight towards the place. Unsurprisingly, there are multiple students, some testing their form with weapons, others practicing spellcasting. But considering how much of a giant Raphael is supposed to be and what his preferences for combat were according to the game, I should be able to…

“Ready, Leonie?”

Huh?

“Any time, big guy.”

I turn in the direction where I heard that from. Two students are fistfighting in a corner, one a blonde mountain of muscles, the other a much shorter boy with orange hair. Of course, if I heard correctly, the short one is not a boy, but Three Houses’ overly obsessed fangirl.

And if the poorly buttoned up shirt is any indication, the ‘big guy’ must be Raphael. Perfect.

I head towards the two. The wise thing to do would be interrupting them a moment and talking with Raphael. But instead I...actually start observing the two’s forms.

Neither of them is anything to scoff at. Leonie is apparently aware she’s at a disadvantage in terms of raw physical strength as she is keeping the blonde on the defensive with a quick barrage, making it difficult for him to overpower her. Raphael, however, clearly knows how to keep his defense up, considering none of the orangehead’s attacks manage to hit their intended target, some out of him dodging, but most due to parries.

However, they’re also obvious beginners at this. While Raphael is providing a good defense of the upper part of his body, he’s leaving his legs too open to attacks. Not to mention he’s not actually well planted to the ground. It would be far too easy for someone of Leonie’s size to make him lose his balance.

But _ that _ is where Leonie is making mistakes. Besides not taking the multiple opportunities she’s having, she’s directing too many of her attacks, punches and kicks alike, to the head and the ribcage. Considering the difference in height between the two, those are not the targets she should be focusing on. Harder to reach than the pelvis or the knees. Or - if she wanted to play dirty - the genitals.

The two go on for some time, neither getting any form of advantage over the other, always staying locked in their standstill.

It is only when they stop to catch their breaths that their bout ends.

“Hey...that...wasn’t...bad...Raphael,” Leonie says between pants

“Thanks,” the equally out of breath guy replies “You were...great...too.”

I have to mentally tsk at that. Not bad, I can agree. Great? Definitely no.

No matter. They are here to learn and I’m not the one that’s going to teach them.

Before they gather enough breath to have another go, I intervene “Excuse me, can I have a moment wit you?”

They both turn to me. Leonie has the typical expression of those who hear me talk for the first time, but Raphael takes it more in stride “Sure, uh...mister…?”

“Eugenio,” I introduce myself, “I’m looking for Raphael Kirsten. Is dat you?”

“Yep, that’s me!” the ever cheerful giant replies “What can I help ya with?”

“Professor Hanneman wanted to talk wit you on de twenty-fift. He wants to test if you have a Crest or not. Does half-past five sound good?”

“Sure!” he chirps, without even batting an eye at what the meeting is gonna be about.

“Good,” I simply comment, “Dat’s all I needed. You two can go back to your…”

“Hold on a moment,” Leonie cuts me off “Why are you talking like that?”

Ah, yes. The classic question about my accent.

“It’s just an accent from where I live. I come from Varholm Village.”

Her brow furrowing and her glaring at me was not the reaction I was expecting. What did I say?

“Buddy, _ I _ come from Sauin Village, which is in the exact same area as Varholm. And I can tell you this: we do not talk _ like dis _.”

Wh...what?

“Only people I’ve heard talk with an accent _ that _ thick did it to mock us. So let me ask again: why are you talking like that?”

...shit.

I look around to see if Leonie drew the attention of the other students. She wasn’t shouting, but she isn’t exactly a quiet talker either.

And it turns out a couple of them _ are _ looking at us now. With no sign they intend to look away any time soon.

Double shit.

How do I get out of this situation now? I tell the truth in front of all these people, they will tell others and soon everyone in the Monastery will know. I take Leonie away to explain it in private, rumors I’m hiding something will spread and I’ll be in who knows what trouble. I hesitate here too long, God only knows what these students will believe.

Triple shit.

Seteth, I pray you haven’t shown your less austere colors to most of those here yet.

“If I gave de impression I was doing it to mock you, my apologies. Dat was not my intention,” I tell her.

Leonie somewhat relaxes at that, “Yeah, I kinda figured,” oh good, she’s believing me “But that still doesn’t answer why. You realize no one talks like that, right?”

Oh, I’m well aware girl, thank you very much.

“Let’s just say dat de story behind it is someting between me and de Church. And dat if I tell you more I’ll basically call down Setet’s wrat upon us all.”

Both Leonie and Raphael immediately pale at my words, while what students were looking at us quickly turn away. Thank goodness the ‘S’ word worked.

“Duly noted,” Leonie gulps.

“Good,” I comment, “Now, if dat is all, I have oder tings to attend to. Please excuse me.”

I leave before the two are finished responding and get as far away from the training grounds as possible. As I do so, the orangehead’s words keep repeating themselves in my head.

_ We do not talk _ like dis _ . _

_ Only people I’ve heard talk with an accent _ that _ thick did it to mock us. _

So that’s what was up with Petra. My accent is too thick to be due to a simple dialect. Leonie was just the first to bring it up. Petra chose not to for whatever reason, Dedue either didn’t notice or was just polite about it, and the various Golden Deer students I talked to…God, how many figured it out?

Dammit Rhea, you ruled over Fódlan for almost a millennium! You should know these things better than anyone! It’s why I thought this cover would work! How could you make such a stupid mistake?!

Alright. I don’t know how much the Varholm accent cover actually worked so far with the Eagles and Lions, but from now on I’m talking as little as possible around the Deer students. That should hopefully quell any rumor that spreads from this incident with Leonie.

At least, I hope.

* * *

“Are you okay?” Alois asks me, “You seem rather gloomy tonight.”

‘Gloomy’ is a bit of an understatement. After my meeting with Leonie and Raphael, I went to Hanneman to report I had finished with his list. That left me with just my regular work at the library for the rest of the day. Which I spent mostly going over my conversation with Leonie again and again. Mostly on whether playing the Seteth card was a good idea or not.

But that’s _ my _ problem. Not Alois’.

“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him, “It’s noting important.”

He arches an eyebrow at that, “Are you sure? It seems to be if it got you down like this.”

“You already have your duties, Alois. I don’t want to burden you wit dis.”

“Eugenio…”

I mentally sigh. How can a seasoned Knight be such a softie?

I lean towards Alois’ ear, “I ran into a student from a village near Varholm today,” I whisper, “She saw trough my cover. Within earshot of oder students.”

His eyes widen at my words “You mean she…?”

“She pointed out I couldn’t possibly be from Varholm, but I shut her up by saying it was Church business and telling her anyting more would irritate Setet. I haven’t told her my situation.”

Alois breathes a sigh of relief, “That’s good. Seteth might disapprove of being demonized like that, but I’m sure he’ll understand if you explain things to him.”

Oh God, I hadn’t even thought about that!

“I hope you’re right about dat,” I reply.

“‘Course I am! I know him pretty well.”

You know very little about him. You have no idea he’s not human or that he’s actually Saint Cichol.

“So what else is on your mind?”

Huh? “What do you mean?”

“If you managed to limit it there, you shouldn’t be feeling this down. What else is bothering you?”

“Noting?” I reply, “Its just dis.”

He again arches an eyebrow “Are you sure?”

Well, of course! What else would I be bothered by? Sure, since I got here things haven’t gone as smoothly as I’d hoped, but I...I…

I sigh, “De fact dat so many people are seeing trough my cover is starting to worry me. First, it was Professor Hanneman. Now, it’s-” _ Leonie _ “dis student. And in between de two, dere has been-” _ Petra _ “one of de Eagles student, a transfer from Brigid, dat _ may _ have figured it out as well.”

I lean back into my seat, “I didn’t want dis kind of attention. I’m used to staying in de background when it comes to crowds. And even wit my accent, I tought it would be dat way here as well. Sure, people would notice me as ‘de guy wit de funny accent’ but den quickly forget about me. Just anoder face to see around here.”

Knowing what Alois is like, I’m kind of expecting him to try and cheer me up with one of his bad jokes or stumbling through some kind of comforting words after that little speech I’ve given him.

But, to my astonishment, he doesn’t do anything of the sort. In fact, he doesn’t say a word. He just sits still there, his face neutral and his eyes watching me. In silence. A silence that lasts for what feels like a good minute.

“Tell me,” is how he decides to break that silence with an even tone, “Why do you wish to ‘stay in the background’?”

That question blindsides me, “Huh...excuse me? What do you mean by dat?”

Again he doesn’t say a word, his face still neutral, acting in a way he shouldn’t. What the hell happened to the goofball I know from the game?

“I…” I try to say, “It’s not dat I _ want _ to. It’s what I’m used to. It’s how it’s always been for me,” still silence from him, “De background is...is…”

“Yes?” Alois prods.

I gulp, “It’s where I don’t have eyes on me. Where I don’t stand out to people and dey.... get expectations for me. Expectations I could never live up to.”

I do a double take as soon as the words leave my mouth. Dear God, did I really just expose myself that much?

Looking at Alois, I’m not sure whether I should expect an exaggerated reaction like his game self would do or more of this eerie stoicism he’s showing now. To my astonishment neither are what I find.

My statement did get a reaction out of him, but only a sedated one: an arched eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“I…” what do I do now? I wasn’t supposed to say this much about me. How much of what I said could put me in danger if_ he _ slips up?

Okay no, calm down. You haven’t said anything that relevant. You can still salvage this.

“I would rather not say anything more,” is what I opt to answer him, “Please.”

For a moment, Alois doesn’t react and maintains his composure, which only serves to make me worry he’s gonna press for more. But then, the Knight closes his eyes and takes a deep sigh.

“Alright,” is all he says.

Goddamn, I’ve managed to hit a new low: disappoint Alois of all people.

“Anyway,” I continue, in an attempt to stir the conversation to another topic “How was _ your _ day?”

It disturbs me to no end how quickly his face goes from solemn to cheerful again, “Nothing much. I spent most of the day training. Professor Oliver, however, requested my help for a training exercise tomorrow.”

That name doesn’t ring any bell, “Professor who?”

“Ah, sorry. He’s the combat and strategy professor and the Golden Deer’s homeroom teacher.”

Ah. The guy who leaves the three lords to die and gets replaced by Byleth, then.

“How exactly are you going to help him?”

“He’s taking the House leaders and a few others outside the Monastery for a training exercise tomorrow afternoon. Me and a few other Knights will be supervising it. Truly a _ noble _ endeavor, don’t you think?”

Am I talking to Ferdinand all of a sudden?

“Why does he need to go outside de Monastery?” I ask “Isn’t it safer here?”

“Safer, yes,” Alois replies “But not a good place to get proper field experience, unfortunately. And that’s what Professor Oliver wants to give them. Anyway, as I said, the exercise will take place during the late afternoon. If you don’t see me here tomorrow evening, this is why.”  
  
“Understood,” I reply. I hope this training exercise he’s going on will go smoo...

Wait a minute.

_ Alois _ is going outside the Monastery for a training exercise. Alongside the Golden Deer’s homeroom teacher. With a group of students that includes the three House leaders. During the late afternoon, almost evening.

Oh boy, I know what is going to happen...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was chapter 8. The last one set before the start of the game and the one where Alois shows a more serious side of himself. Hope you all liked that. And if not...sorry, I guess?
> 
> Next chapter will be slightly different from what you've seen so far. Different how? You'll have to wait and see.
> 
> Once more, thanks to LowerBlack and 16th-Beat for betareading this. Join us at the TreeHouse Discord, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> See you all next time!


	9. Interlude 1-Byleth

_ “You’ll die for that!” the woman called ‘Seiros’ declares as she starts stabbing ‘Nemesis’’ chest again and again, a pool of blood quickly forming underneath him “Die! Die!” _

_ This is how it has always been for me: two armies clashing in a field under raining skies, one composed by knights in white armor, one by warriors with simpler darker-looking armors. And leading the latter, a tall man wielding a glowing sword-whip hybrid. And more lights like it glowing in the distance. _

_ But what this battle is about, what lead to this chaos and bloodshed, I have never understood. _

_ “You took...everything that I loved!” _

_ All I have ever been able to do is make conjectures from those six words. And the ones ‘Seiros’ utters as she places the whip-sword to her cheeks while her army cheers for her victory. _

_ “He’s gone now, Mother.” _

_ Judging by the difference in age between the two, ‘Nemesis’, for one reason or another, must have destroyed ‘Seiros’’ village when she was very young, killing everyone she knew and loved there. Especially her mother. _

_ A mother that, by the way she’s holding the sword, must have been the blacksmith that first built it. An ingenious blacksmith to create such a weapon, but one with interesting tastes to shape the blade like a spine. _

_ But whatever the case, ‘Seiros’ must have sworn revenge on the man that ruined her life. A revenge whose culmination was this moment. Was ‘Nemesis’ the leader of an army of brigands and Seiros a knight that led her lord’s forces against him? Or was ‘Nemesis’ an unjust lord ‘Seiros’ led a rebellion against? And what are those other lights that always flash in the distance? _

_ So far, I have not found the answers to those questions. _

_ Of course,  _ that _ is when the vision ends. All I have afterwards are quick flashes. Flashes that are never the same. Sometimes flashes of some kind of temple within a canyon, other times of strange-looking towers reaching higher to the skies than I’ve ever seen. And in some rare cases, gigantic creatures I’ve never seen anywhere else. _

_ But when they end, I’m always in the same place. The one place in my dreams where I can feel I have control over my body. A pathway of tiles leading up to a throne, where a child is always sleeping. A child with strange pointed ears and green hair longer than she is. _

_ All I can do from this point onward is trying to peer into the darkness surrounding this place, where I’d usually find a light that would engulf me and return me to the waking world. Despite my attempts in the past, nothing has ever been able to awaken the child. _

_ “Oh, my,” what? “What could have brought you here?” _

_ I turn in the direction that voice came from: the top of the throne. Where the child has awakened. She is clearly dizzy but not asleep anymore. And she is looking at me with curiosity. _

_ It seems tonight will be different. _

_ “I wonder how you got in here,” the child yawns “It is most rude to interrupt a moment of repose. Very rude indeed.” _

_ Interesting choice of words. ‘A  _ moment _ of  _ repose _ ’. I always knew something was not right with her since in all these years she didn’t age a day, but the use of a more archaic term, the fact she considers years a short amount of time (enough to call it a moment) and her peculiar ears all point to her being...not human. _

_ Like me. _

_ “Now come to me,” she continues, “I wish to have a look at you.” _

_ No doubt she’s concerned with waking up after...however long she’s slept and having a stranger as the first person to meet. Better if I indulge her. _

_ “Hmmm,” she murmurs as she watches me approach the staircase at the feet of the throne, “I have not seen the likes of you before. What are you, anyway?” _

_ “A demon.” _

_ It is true. Though I wear a human skin, I am not. I am merely an unfeeling monster. _

_ The child scowls, “Do not deceive. You would do well to keep your wit in line.” _

_ It appears she still has a limited understanding of what a monster is. _

_ “...a mortal,” I opt to answer. I can not, in good conscience, call myself a man. _

_ That, however, seems to be enough for the child, “I see. Then you must have a name of sorts.” _

_ “I am called Byleth.” _

_ “Huh,” something about my answer seems to amuse her, “I shall not ever grow accustomed to the sound of human names.” _

_ So I was right. She isn’t human. But what is she then? Is she  _ actually _ a child? _

_ The...being glances around after that, “Hmmm. It all feels so…” she yawns “Familiar.” _

_ A second, louder yawn follows the first, and the being places her head on the throne’s armrest, her hair serving as a pillow of sorts, “I think it may be time for...yet another nap.” _

_ “It is almost...time to...begin…” is the last thing she mutters before falling completely asleep again. _

_ ‘Almost time to begin’. Begin what? Is her awakening this time a prelude for something else? _

_ Those are the questions I awake with. _

* * *

What I awoke to was...interesting, to say the least.

Three teenagers, coming to Remire in the middle of the night while chased by bandits is not something that happens everyday. At least they did have some knowledge on how to fight, so they were able to help me and Father out.

Then, I stepped between the bandits’ apparent leader and the girl of the trio, only to discover the being, whose name turned out to be Sothis, could stop and briefly rewind the flow of time. That and some of the things she said raises more questions about her nature. Questions she herself doesn’t seem to have the answers to, thanks to an amnesia.

But all of that was nothing compared to what came after: a knight come to rescue the teenagers recognized Father. Said he had once been the captain of these knights. Said he disappeared twenty years ago. And the teenagers later commented he had to be the ‘Bladebreaker’. Considering Father never mentioned any of this, I have to assume it was a life he wanted to leave behind

However, that same knight - Alois was the name he addressed himself with - insisted on Father and I to come with them to this ‘Garreg Mach Monastery’. Something to which Father said ‘Even I wouldn’t dare run from the Knight of Seiros’. Which was actually his way to say that either we complied or these knights would be coming for us. And if Father thought the former was the better option, even though he tried to sever his ties with them, they must be quite persistent.

So now we’re accompanying him, leaving our job in the Kingdom to the rest of the company, who will rejoin us after that.

But perhaps the situation isn’t as dire as I’m assuming. Throughout our march, Father and this ‘Alois’ have genuinely interacted like old comrades. Perhaps Father’s reason for leaving was something trivial. Or perhaps Alois is the one person he trusts within these knights. In which case, him being the one to find us may have been a blessing in disguise.

“This will be your first time at the Monastery.”

Of course, Alois isn’t the only relevant person among these strangers. There are also the three nobleborn teenagers themselves. Or rather, the three students of the ‘Officers’ Academy’, as the case would be.

“I’d be happy to show you around,” the Faerghus boy, ‘Dimitri’, tells me.

Out of the three he seems the most sincere. Not surprising considering his nation puts honor and chivalry above else.

But the way he fought those bandits, the look in his eyes when his lance skewered their flesh...I can’t help but feel there’s a darkness lurking beneath.

“It really is Fódlan in a nutshell,” the Leicester boy, ‘Claude’, adds nonchalantly “The good and the bad.”

His smile and easy going nature would no doubt captivate most people. But the fact that neither reach his eyes only expose them for the facade they are. A facade one would build to hide a life of pain. Judging by his features and considering Leicester relations with Almyra, I can assume why.

“Like it or not, we’ll be there soon enough,” the Adrestian girl, ‘Edelgard’, concludes.

Out of the three she’s the picture of what most would think of a noble born: refined, posed and proud. But at the same time, there’s a calculating glint in her eyes, almost as if she is always evaluating those around her. And the way she commented how I fought during our battle with the bandits seems to support that assessment.

Before Dimitri cut her off earlier, she was about to say she isn’t just anyone from Adrestia, but someone important. And apparently, important enough to have some kind of high ambition for the Empire if she’s always evaluating people’s usefulness.

“There it is,” she says not long after, “Garreg Mach Monastery.”

As the path starts to go upwards, I turn my gaze towards the top of the hill we’re on, where I see a massive structure. Although it’s supposed to be a monastery and a school for young nobles, it must also serve as a fortress judging by the various layers of defensive walls all across the hill.

The following climb proceeds smoothly, save for a few guards at each wall staring in shock at Father. It seems even after twenty years, he’s still well-known around here.

Eventually, we cross the entrance of the monastery. Alois turns his attention away from Father to address the three students and Father takes that opportunity to distance from him and look up at the sky.

“Rhea’s here,” I hear him mutter.

I look up as well. It turns out he was not looking at the sky but at a balcony. A balcony from which a woman is staring down at the two of us. She’s too distant for me to get a good look at her. And yet, there is something...familiar about her.

“Alright, the students are taken care of,” Alois intervenes all of a sudden, “I think it’s time I take you two to Lady Rhea.”

Yes, perhaps that is for the best.

* * *

The reason why this ‘Lady Rhea’ seemed familiar became evident as soon as I saw her up-close: aside from her attire, she’s literally identical to the ‘Seiros’ woman from my dreams. My first thought was that it was the same woman under a different name, but according to what I’ve been told, Seiros was the one who founded this Church’s doctrine a thousand years ago. Perhaps Lady Rhea is a distant descendant?

The revelation of who Seiros was, however, raises another question: why am I dreaming of events that must have happened centuries ago?

But that is not why I’ve come to the library.

As it turns out, the three students - who I’ve been told are the Imperial princess, the Kingdom’s prince and the heir of House Riegan - were originally out with one of their professors. I didn’t get the man’s name, but apparently he left them to die when they were attacked and was fired because of it, leaving an empty spot. An empty spot that, in a move that did not make sense to even her own assistant, Lady Rhea hired me to fill that spot.

“ _ Watch out for Lady Rhea, _ ” Father had warned me, “ _ I don’t know what she’s thinking, making you a professor like this. She may be up to something. Stay on your guard. _ ”

A warning I intend to take to heart. My  _ unbeating _ heart.

The former professor apparently taught ‘Combat and Strategy’ and was the ‘homeroom teacher’ of the Golden Deers, the House made by students from the Alliance. I would have expected Lady Rhea would choose someone else to take that second responsibility, but apparently she told the other two I’d be taking that as well and left the three of us to decide who would be which House’s homeroom teacher.

That is accommodating. Too accommodating for a last minute replacement like me.

In any case, I’ll be meeting with Professors Manuela and Hanneman later today to make that decision, after I’ve talked with the students and got a general feel of the Houses.

As for the subject I’ll be teaching, combat is straightforward enough. I’ll have to apply what Father taught me and it should be fine. But strategy, I need to see what exactly the students are supposed to learn from that. Starting from here.

“Are you two the ones called ‘Tomas’ and ‘Eugenio’?” I ask the two men standing by the counter.

The older of the two, who must be the actual librarian Tomas, is the first to respond, “Ah, you are that mercenary. Captain Jeralt’s son, yes?”

He sounds jovial with his words. But something about them rings… false.

“Bylet, was it?” the younger one, his assistant Eugenio undoubtedly, adds.

By the names, I’d assumed they were both from the Alliance. And yet, this assistant has features that seem native of Dagda. But his accent is not one the Dagdans talk with. Or anyone else not from Fódlan. Curious.

“Yes,” I reply, “I am looking for texts students use for studying strategy.”

“Oh?” Tomas asks, surprised. Strangely, Eugenio doesn’t seem as surprised as his superior is, “Anything in particular you are looking for?”   
  
“No.”

For a while, the two do not react and just look at me. Was I supposed to say more?

“Very well,” Tomas sighs before turning to his assistant, “Would you kindly wait here while I’m away?”

“Sure ting,” the younger man replies. I can’t help but notice a spark in his eyes that seems to be...relief? Did I really upset him so quickly?

“Then please,” Tomas continues as he waves for me to follow, “Come with me.”

I suppose it doesn’t really matter.

In the distance, the Church’s bells ring. I have one hour before I can go meet the students.

* * *

Talking with the students has been rather...illuminating, let’s say.

My initial assumption that only noble born teenagers study here was somewhat incorrect, as there are some of common birth as well. But even then, most of them are here as either adopted children of nobles, relatives of famous knights or members of influential merchant families. And the select few that are none of those are here out of personal gain rather than education.

The Black Eagles, the students from the Empire, seem to have a dynamic that in one way or another always revolves around Edelgard, with opinions of her that range from respect to almost-worship. One of them that stood out was the Brigid princess, who’s here as a ‘transfer student’. Although I suspect there’s more to her being in Fódlan in the first place than that.

The Blue Lions, the students from the Kingdom, are less centralized on Dimitri and stay more as small groups of close friends. And like the Eagles, they have a foreign classmate: a native of Duscur taller than anyone I’ve ever met and Dimitri’s retainer. A retainer that, despite the two nations’ history, seems to be actually loyal to him.

The Golden Deers are a more varied group. Most of the commoner students are here and there seems to be a divide between them and their noble born classmates, who themselves are for the most part divided between themselves, much like their nation.

I still have a couple more students to talk with, but those are my general impressions.

“Excuse me?” I tell a tall student from the Deers in front of me.

He turns and looks puzzled, “Uh, are you someone’s guest?” he points to somewhere behind me, “The dining hall is that way if that’s what you’re looking for.

“No, wait Raphael,” the...girl he was talking to intervenes. That voice...could it be?

“It’s you!” she exclaims “Do you remember me?”

A round face. A lean physique. Orange eyes and hair colour. Her hair is shorter than I remember, but there’s no doubt it is her.

“The daughter of Mister Pinelli,” I answer, “Leonie, was it?”

Her answer is a satisfied smile.

“Uh…” ‘Raphael’ chimes in, “You two know each other?”

“Of course,” Leonie replies, “Remember what I told you about Captain Jeralt and his mercenaries coming to my village?” her classmate nods, “Well, he is his son. I met him during that time.”

I’m impressed she’d remember anyone from the company with how much time she spent around Father. 

“Nice to meet you!” the taller boy tells me, “I’m Raphael Kirsten. What’s your name again?”

“Byleth,” I answer him.

Kirsten...I think I remember that name. One of the most influential merchant families of the Alliance. And also the one that was all but wiped out in the same incident that claimed the life of Lord Godfrey von Riegan. An interesting career choice for one of the survivors to come studying here.

“I’ve heard Jeralt is rejoining the Knights,” Leonie chimes in, “Are you gonna do the same?”

I could tell them that I’m joining as a professor. But my soon-to-be colleagues seemed to wish to keep that under wraps for now.

“The Archbishop seems to have a purpose for me in mind,” I decide to say, “What that purpose is, I have yet to learn.”

“The Archbishop herself?” she exclaims “That’s...huh…”

“I know,” I reply.

After that exchange of pleasantries, I ask them what I’ve asked any other student here: what took them to this place, what topics they are studying and what they think of their house as a whole.

Raphael seems to be a simple person: he’s studying here to become a knight so he can provide his family, he’s focused on brawling and axes and he thinks everyone in his House is ‘great’.

Leonie has a more harsh view towards her noble born classmates, but what surprises me is what she has to say on everything else.

“A mercenary?” I ask her.

“Yep. I was inspired ever since I saw your father in action. This was my chance to realize that dream.”

I hope she’s aware of what such a life truly entails. The long days on the road, the dangers of clients unwilling to pay, the way death is always but a step away...

“And you’re studying the lance,” I observe, “Not archery.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m still training with bows as well. But I wanted to make lances my main weapon.”

A shame. Her prowess with the bow seemed promising. At least I hope her choice is born from actual skill rather than a desire to be like Father.

“I see,” is all I can comment, “That is all I wanted to know. You both have my thanks.”

“No problem, Mister Byleth!” Raphael replies.

“Yeah,” Leonie adds, “And good luck with what the Archbishop wants you to do.”

“Thank you,” although so far what she truly ‘wants me to do’ only feels like bad news.

* * *

“The Black Eagles, the Blue Lions and the Golden Deer...all so different” is the first thing Professor Manuela says in that apparently characteristically teasing tone of hers when I rejoin her and Professor Hanneman, “I hope you’ve made it a point to get to know each of them.”

“I have,” I reply.

“Since you are new here, we have decided to allow you first pick,” Professor Hanneman adds.

They ‘decided’? Or did the Archbishop compel them to?

“So, what’ll it be?” Manuela continues.

That is a question I still don’t have an answer to, unfortunately. All three of the Houses present some problems.

The Eagles’ is their pride born out of being from the Empire. A pride that in the Adrestian nobles more often than not turns into arrogance, making them believe their opinion is never wrong and unable to listen to others. A trait their young no doubt share.

The Lions’ is their overly strong belief in honor. A belief that never actually prepares for the life-or-death reality of battle. And that has caused the death of more than one young aspiring Kingdom knight over the years. If I must teach these youth, I’ll have to first teach them to let go of their delusions about chivalry.

And the Deers’ is their general lack of unity. Something that is reflected in the political squabbles between the noble families of the Alliance, only here it’s even worse with those of common birth bringing more disorder to the table.

“Could I ask you two a few more questions?” I tell my two colleagues.

“Certainly,” Hanneman replies.

“Even if I choose a specific House to be the homeroom teacher of, I will still have to teach all of them, correct?”

“Of course. Being a homeroom teacher simply means you have to look after one of the Houses’ well-being. It does not affect who or how much you’ll teach.”

So whatever House I pick, I will have to deal with each’s problem no matter what when it comes to teaching how to fight. The only thing that will change is which students I will have to supervise into an actual battle.

“Can’t say I envy your topic, though,” Manuela adds, “It’s one of the few everyone has to attend.”

That matters not. The job I’ve been given is to be a guide and teacher. To how many is irrelevant.

What  _ is _ relevant is which students would be more willing to trust me with their life. Because trust is the most important thing.

Wounding the Eagles’ pride or shattering the Lions’ beliefs is a good way to alienate them if I’m not careful. And the Deers come from such a complex web of intrigues that earning the trust of one could lose that of another.

Of course, all three of the House leaders seemed eager to have me as their homeroom teacher. They have seen me in action firsthand. They have followed my instructions when we were fighting the bandits. They could help smooth things over between me and their classmates.

But none of that changes the fact that I can choose only one of them.

Hmmm...perhaps there is also another thing I’m not considering.

“Before the incident with the other professor, you two had both already been assigned to one of the Houses,” I continue, “Meaning you had already formed a bond with those students. Is that correct?”

The two look uncomfortably at each other for a moment.

“Well, yes,” Hanneman replies, “But…”

That is all I need to hear “Then I see no reason to break those bonds,” I cut him off. If some of these students’ trust was already growing with one of them, forcing them to accept a new professor could be counterproductive, “I will simply replace the other professor as head of his House. Which one is that?”

A look of relief comes over Manuela’s face. Hanneman reacts more stoically to my statement.

“The Golden Deer,” he answers.

So in the end it’s the class with people that come from conflicting walks of life. So be it.

It comes to me only now that it is also the one where Leonie is.

The son of Jeralt the Bladebreaker and one of his fiercest admirers. This might be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? A chapter pubblished less than a week from the last one? I'm shocked as well. Although the shorter length probably played a part in it.
> 
> In any case, we finally meet Byleth, with the game's plot officially beginning.
> 
> Special thanks to LowerBlack for betareading this chapter. Come join us at the Treehouse Discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> See you next time!


	10. Chapter 9-The Ashen Demon

After what Alois told me last night, I knew what today would bring. And even though I stayed most of the day in the library, the rumors arrived to my ear either way. Bandits openly attacking the students, their professor being sent away in disgrace for abandoning them and - most important of all - the famous Jeralt the Bladebreaker coming out of hiding to rescue them, with his own son at his back.

A son that is no doubt Byleth, the male one to be precise. Bit of a shame. Had it been the female one I would have liked to know if she wore actual armor or that crappy excuse for one she had in the game.

As I enter the dining hall, I decide that perhaps it’s best if I leave Alois be for today. No doubt he wants to spend time with his old mentor rather than me.

“Ah, there you are!”

I turn around at the sound of Alois’ voice and I see him coming in my direction. Alone. It would appear I was mistaken.

“How’s your day been, Eugenio?” he asks as soon as he’s next to me.

“Everyting in de norm,” I reply before taking a more concerned tone. I’m not supposed to know what exactly happened out there, after all, “But what about you? I’ve heard you and de students were attacked.”

“Eh, it was better than it sounds,” he nonchalantly replies “The students were ambushed while training, yes, but we intervened before anyone got hurt,” his voice takes a less cheerful tone, “No thanks to their professor, though.”

Oh, right. That guy, “I’ve heard he fled as soon de attack began. Is dat true?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” he sighs, “And in the chaos, the House leaders got separated from the rest of the group. The bandits tried to chase them but we chased them back.”

“And in de proces, crossed pats wit ‘Jeralt de Bladebreaker’,” I comment.

“Yep,” he smiles at that bit, “I can’t believe after all these years we’ve actually met again.”

Oh, how I wish I did not have to play ignorant, “So you two are acquainted?” 

A look of surprise comes to his face at my question, “Acquainted? He was my mentor! Surely I’ve told you about him?”

“A couple of times, yes,” not to mention I already knew before that, “But I was under de impression he retired.”

His enthusiasm dies down a bit at my question, “That’s...not quite it. He did leave, that’s true, but it was not for retirement.”

“What was it for, den?”

The next words he utters, come out with a slight tone of sadness, “Back when he worked here, he had a wife. A wife that died in childbirth. And not long after that tragedy, he also lost his child to a fire that occurred here a couple decades ago.”

Except that child was not lost. Jeralt faked their death to hide him from Rhea.

But once again, I have to keep quiet about that.

“Well, damn,” I say with what I hope sounds like a shocked tone, “I’m sorry to hear dat.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures me, “You didn’t know.”

Oh, I did. But that is not something _ you _ need to know.

“So, what is Jeralt going to do?” I ask, hoping to change the subject “Is he here just to visit?”

“Actually, Lady Rhea has offered to reinstate him as the captain of the Knights.”

More like ‘forced’ from what I remember of this part of the game.

“Really? Is he actually still in fighting shape?” It surprised me even in the game that he never considered that detail. Then again, Alois wasn’t exactly the best at stopping and thinking.

At least, that was what I thought of him before...before last night.

“Oh yes, he is. With his,” he clears his throat, “_ Peculiar _ situation his years haven’t caught up to him yet.”

Oh, right. Alois already knows that Jeralt has a Seiros Crest and ages more slowly. He said so on my first day here.

Now time for one completely genuine question, “Well, if dat’s de case, don’t you want to spend tonight with him? It isn’t everyday one reunites wit an old friend after twenty years.”

“I wanted to but, well…” he rubs the back of his head, “For tonight he asked me to leave him some space with his son. Which I agreed to.”

I’m surprised by how tactful Alois was towards that. Then again, he’s already proven I don’t know him quite as well as I thought.

Well, let’s just go ahead with the questions one would normally ask in my situation.

“His son?” I say with my best surprised tone “He had another child?”

“...yes,” Alois replies, although he doesn’t sound like he believes what he’s saying, “He said that at some point he married another woman and had another son with her,” his brow furrows, “At least that’s what he said.”

Is that distrust towards Jeralt’s words I hear? Interesting...

“You tink dat’s not de case?”

“Well…” he hesitates, “His name is Byleth. Like Jeralt’s first son. It could be that he named the second after the one he never got to raise. But the more I look at him, the more he reminds me of Sitri.”

‘Sitri’? “Who’s dat?”

Alois all but facepalms at my question, “Ah, sorry. That’s the name of Jeralt’s first wife.”

Huh… the name of Byleth’s mom...guess I should have expected to hear it sooner or later.

Although, I’m curious now. In the game he seemed to buy Jeralt’s lie that Byleth and his other child were not one and the same. Now he’s saying that he’s actually suspicious about what the truth actually is?

“So you’re implying dis son he came wit is actually de same dat supposedly died in dat fire?”

It probably isn’t smart on my part to make that question. But my curiosity won this time. Plus, Alois did sound like he needed to voice his concerns.

Indeed, when the Knight replies, he does sound relieved to be able to say his piece, “I mean, there are quite a few things pointing to that conclusion, but why would Jeralt lie about what happened to his son?”

Oh, you have no idea what kind of rabbit hole you’d have to go into to answer that.

“Well, what’s dis son like?”

“I haven’t talked with him much, but he’s very stoic. He kept on a neutral expression all throughout our march back to the Monastery. I guess he inherited that from Jeralt. He has never been very expressive himself.”

Nope. Byleth didn’t inherit it from him. He’s just a reanimated corpse. Literally.

“Well, what else can you tell me about Jeralt? Any story you’d like to share?”

The pleased look that comes to Alois’ eyes immediately makes me regret asking that one, “I’m glad you asked!”

We spend the rest of the evening with him telling me about his ‘adventures’ with Jeralt across the years before the tragedy with Byleth’s mom. The start of it is stuff I already knew: Alois originally was one of the Monastery’s workers until Jeralt picked him as his squire to replace the one he had recently lost. After that, it’s a series of wacky stories the two went through, which kind of start blending together after a bit.

It’s only when he starts talking about Byleth’s mom that he manages to recapture my attention.

He didn’t know her for long, but apparently this Sitri was an orphan that grew here at Garreg Mach. By the time she and Jeralt started dating, she had become Rhea’s assistant - and thus Seteth’s predecessor - and there were talks she’d succeed Rhea as the next Archbishop.

She also apparently suffered from poor health. A condition that forced her to never leave the Monastery. And that undoubtedly played a part in her demise.

Gotta give it to the devious crocodile, whether the poor health was true or not, she knew how to keep her precious vessel always under control. And those who came before her too, most likely.

I really can’t imagine how awkward it’ll be for Byleth to hear just how controlling Rhea was towards his mom. That is, if the two do get to that. Because if this goes the Crimson Flower route, all Rhea will have to say will amount to ‘My mommy issues just got ten times worse!’

Well, since that will be five to six years from now, I’ll leave it to the two of them to sort out. Not my business and I hopefully will be as far away from here as possible when that happens.

* * *

Even though yesterday was the ‘big day’ of Jeralt’s return, things have gone back to normal rather quickly, with the students coming to search for or return books or even simply to study. There are still some discussions about Jeralt’s return, but not to the extent of yesterday. All in all, a rather normal day here.

Until the moment Byleth himself showed up. He didn’t do or say anything particularly strange, aside from not elaborating further on what specific books he was looking for except for ‘_ I am looking for texts students use for studying strategy _’. And Solon this time around chose to handle him himself, which is a plus since it gives me a few minutes where I don’t have to watch out for the pale creep.

But boy oh boy, did the game do a very poor job of showing just how eerie Byleth actually is.

He didn’t talk much, but what few words he did utter were said with so little emotion put into them one would be excused for thinking he was reading a script aloud. Except there was no script he could have possibly been reading and he was looking at me and Solon in the eye like he was having a normal conversation.

Oh, and let’s not forget about his eyes. His eyes that lacked any sort of spark of life in them. His eyes that were a pair of indigo stagnant pools. If it wasn’t for some very _ very _ subtle movement of his pupils when he switched his attention between me and Solon, it wouldn’t have been too different from looking at the eyes of a statue.

And that’s not to mention his reaction at hearing me speak, or rather, the lack of one. Everyone who I’ve ever talked to the first time had some kind of reaction, some rather obvious, others more subtle.

But Byleth...he had no reaction at all. He just kept his trademark neutral expression, without even a blink of the eye to show any sign of surprise. Did he just not notice? Or is his lack of emotions really that bad?

And, most importantly, how am I supposed to act around him? Does Byleth genuinely not care that I speak with a strange accent? Is he going to ask about it in the future? Is he going to keep an eye on me?

Ok, best policy with Byleth: interact with him as little as possible. Trying to keep up lies with Rhea, Seteth and Solon is already hard. Having a third of the students (if not more) capable of seeing through my cover is even harder. I don’t need a man who is unable to show what he’s thinking to deal with.

* * *

“You wanted to see me, Professor?” I ask as I enter Hanneman’s office.

I must say, I was surprised when I received a summon from him. The last time I met him, shortly before Byleth’s arrival, he said our next study session would not be before the Harpstring Moon, since he’d be busy preparing his House for a mock battle at the end of this month.

The same one that makes for chapter one of the game, no doubt.

Hanneman, who was examining a sheet he’s holding, turns to me “Ah, yes. Please do come and take a seat.”

I do as he says, still pretty confused on why he would want to see me after his claims to be busy.

The first thing I notice is that the mage is frowning. Not in an angry way, but in a meditative one. Did something on the sheet he was looking at give him pause?

“During one of our early meetings, you said you were acquainted with Crests somewhat,” he starts before I can ask about it, “Is that correct?”

“It is,” I confirm. Did he find out something about the one I have? Is that why I’m here?

“In that case, there is a favor I must ask of you. From one studious to another.”

Okay…?

Hanneman places the sheet on his desk and shows it to me, “Do you recognize this symbol?”

I glance at what is on the sheet. The best way I can describe this ‘symbol’ is a mash of three lines put together, one placed in a diagonal position, one curved in a semicircle and placed near the top of the first, and one that...starts parallel to the first then curves and then proceeds perpendicularly. The first one is also branching on the end opposite to the curved line.

It’s a rather strange design. And strangest of all, there is something...familiar about it.

“I tink I may have seen it before,” I tell Hanneman, “But I can’t quite say where.”

Hanneman takes a meditative pose at that reply, “Interesting,” he muses.

Why is it interesting? What’s going on?

“Is dis related to your research on my Crest?” I ask.

His first reaction is to blink, “What? Ah, no. My apologies, this is something else I’m researching,” I throw him a dirty look, to which he raises his hands defensively, “Not to worry! I’m still looking into your Crest as well. But as I had warned you, it is taking time.”

Okay, let’s try to keep it cool. I don’t need to antagonize my one ticket off this cesspool.

“Well, what _ is _ dis?” I tap the symbol “And why are you researching it?”

The mage lowers his hands at that, and returns to a more colloquial tone, “Have you met the new professor?”

“De mercenary son of de recently reinstated Captain?”

“Yes, that very same.”

“I have.”

Oh, I think I know what is going on here.

“Well, yesterday he agreed to be tested for Crests. The Analyzer reacted to his blood but, strangely enough, it didn’t show any of the known Crests. It showed that symbol.”

As I thought. For the first few chapters of the game, Byleth’s Crest only presents itself as ‘incomplete’ and is called the ‘Mystery Crest’. All because it’s ‘too powerful for the Analyzer’ or something like that. It isn’t until the chapter in which Byleth gets the Sword of the Creator that the game reveals what Crest he has.

Of course, the events of that chapter are months away from now, so I have to keep quiet about what it is.

“Well, I’m sorry I couldn’t be of help,” I tell him, hoping to end the conversation there, “Was dat all you needed to know?”

“Actually, I could use your opinion for something else.”

Oh, goddammit…

“What about?” I ask, biting back my frustration.

“I have two theories about this mysterious Crest Professor Byleth possesses,” the mage replies “It could be that it is a still undiscovered Crest. But it could also be he has a concentration of power in his blood that is beyond the Analyzer’s parameters. The inverse of your Crest, to be precise.”

...what did he just say?

“If it is the latter, it could help us discover how you obtained your own. But before proceeding in either direction, I wanted your opinion on the matter.”

Oh no, what do I say now? If I say it’s the latter I’ll set him on a false lead that will only delay his studies on my Crest. But if I make up who it belongs to, he could easily figure out I lied when Byleth gets his sword. How would I explain myself then?

“Have you tried having him conjure the Crest?” I propose, in hopes of keeping things the way they go in canon.

“I would have, but he’s also busy with preparations for the mock battle,” he replies, “Once that is over, I will ask him for that too, of course, but the opinion of a fellow expert on Crests never hurts. Especially after you said you may have seen it before.”

Me and my dumb mouth…

I suppose I should feel honored he values my opinion like this. But given current circumstances, I’m _ not _.

“Let me tink,” I murmur as I keep tapping the symbol.

I have to dissuade him from thinking Byleth’s Crest and mine are related, that much is certain. But what can I say that won’t come back to bite me in the ass in a few months?

Hmmm...when Hanneman tells Byleth what his Crest is, he does say he had some suspicions even before he picked up the Creator Sword. Perhaps I could hint at the design being similar to the Crest of Flames, but how would me doing this alter future events?

Let’s try a different approach…

“Perhaps we are jumping to conclusions too soon”.

Hanneman arches an eyebrow at my statement, “What do you mean?”

“I am confident dis Crest is not an undiscovered one since I don’t remember ever coming across it during my studies. But it may be too soon to claim it shares someting with mine. Mine first appeared after unnatural events. Did Professor Bylet experience anyting akin to what I did?”

“Not that I’ve heard of,” he concedes, “I think I see where you are going with this. But Crests too powerful for the Analyzer’s parameters shouldn’t exist. Even a Major Crest usually…”

As he cuts himself mid-sentence, Hanneman’s gaze unfocuses from me and he starts muttering to himself, “‘Usually’...could it be…?”

What’s going through that weird head of his now? “Professor?”

“I think I know what Crest this is,” he says, “But it cannot be.”

Uh-oh. “What ‘can not be’?” Did he figure it out already?

“There is one Crest more powerful than the others. Powerful enough that its Major variant can not be measured. But its last bearer died without any recorded heir.”

“Which Crest would dat be?”

“The Crest of Flames.”

I mentally sigh. He did.

“If Professor Byleth has it, it must mean Nemesis did have heirs. Heirs whose identities were lost to time. But how comes no bearer of this Crest has surfaced before?”

Oh, you’d have a field day if you knew…

“De last bearer was a man dat had grown mad wit power,” I tell him, “I doubt people would like to be associated with a man like dat.”

“Ah, fair,” he concedes, “The same way bearers of the Crest of Maurice do not want to be associated with the Elite that turned into a monster.”

Different circumstances, buddy, but the logic is there, “Yes,” I confirm.

Hanneman hmms a little before continuing, “You have my sincerest gratitude. If it really is the Crest of Flames, this may open new possibilities for Crestology.”

“I’m glad to hear,” mostly because that means you won’t be distracted from finding answers about mine by a false lead, “If that is all, I’ll return to the library.”

“By all means,” is the last thing he says before I leave his office.

Well, he would have ended up realizing which Crest he was dealing with on his own. Like in the game. And I didn’t do that much that pointed him in that direction. I wasn’t even the one that brought up the possibility first. So with the way it turned out, things shouldn’t deviate from the game’s script.

Hopefully.

* * *

With the fact I’ve mostly worked at the library during my stay at Garreg Mach, one would forget that my job here is technically being one of the Church’s errand boys. I know I did for the most part.

But today, two days before the infamous mock battle, as I’m gathering equipment from the training ground into a crate, I got a reminder of that.

“Did Setet explain what exactly all of dis is for?” I ask Rebecca, my companion of misadventure.

“No clue, dear,” she replies, “All he said was that it was an unforeseen matter, that it was urgent and to ‘gather these and meet with Alois at the Monastery’s entrance’, and blah, blah, blah,” she sighs, “I swear that guy should lighten up.”

Good luck getting him to listen to you, lady.

“Did he say why he wanted me of all people to help, dough?” I ask her, “No offense, but I’m kind of surprised since he was de one to assign me to de library in de first place.”

“Oh, he didn’t,” what? “He just said ‘find someone who can help you’. Didn’t specify names.”

“And you’re telling me dat only now?” I ask bewildered.

“Of course,” she chuckles, “How else would I get a reaction like that from you?”

Oh great, Alois’ ‘old friend’ is a trickster.

I sigh, “Well in dat case, why _ me _?”

“Simple, really,” she winks, “You’re not bad to look at.”

I have to do a double take at that. She’s hitting on me? Someone she barely knows? Really? “Are you serious?”

She openly laughs this time, “No, just wanted to see how you’d react to the idea.”

Forget trickster, she’s an outright sadist!

She continues after her laughter’s calmed down, “In all seriousness, though, since it’s Alois we’re meeting, you were the first one that came to mind. The guy always likes when he gets a chance to interact with his friends.”

Ah, and since she’s seen the two of us together so many times she’s come to the conclusion we’re friends. Works for me.

“You really care about him, I see,” I comment.

“I should hope so. We’ve known each other since I first arrived here. And that was over twenty years ago.”

Oh? So she’s not one of the orphans that grew here? “What brought you to Garreg Mach?

She shrugs, “My village is a small place in the middle of nowhere and I wanted to see what was beyond it. Bad decision after bad decision and next thing I know I’m petitioning the Church for asylum and here I am.”

Not sure I want to know what she means by ‘bad decision after bad decision’...

“Sounds like a rough going,” I tell her, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it turned out fine in the end,” she reassures with a smile, “And besides, I’m still keeping in touch with my old village,” after that statement, her smile takes a more devious look, “Maybe I could even take you there someday. I’m sure you’d be a hit with the girls.”

I give her a dry look, which only prompts her to laugh once more.

* * *

“Ah, Rebecca! Eugenio!” Alois greets the two of us as we arrive, “I’m glad to see you both!”

Rebecca smiles at him, “Likewise, old friend.”

“Yes, good to see you, Alois,” I add before glancing at the other Knights standing behind him, “What exactly is going on here?”

The Knight face’s shift to an uncertain look at that, “I’m not sure myself. We were told Professor Byleth organized a training exercise for the Golden Deer at the last second.”

Uh-oh. Byleth? And the Golden Deer? Ok, I’ve gotta keep my mouth shut as much as possible around that whole bunch. Besides the obvious Byleth and Claude, if Leonie, a simple girl from a neighbouring village to ‘my own’, could call me out, so will Lorenz, the son of the lord of the territory where Varholm is supposed to be.

But still, another exercise outside the Monastery? Even after the fiasco of last week’s?

“Setet didn’t object?” I ask.

Alois shrugs, “Like I said, I don’t know. All I know is that he told us to meet him here and to make sure the incident from last week doesn’t happen again.”

“How comes he’s taking only the Golden Deer?” Rebecca asks with a tone more inquisitive than I’ve heard from her so far, “Isn’t he supposed to teach _ all _ students?”

Now, that’s a good question. From what I gathered here, Byleth is a teacher of one subject for all classes, unlike in the game.

Unless...this is in preparation for the mock battle. Which would imply that of the three Houses, he chose the Golden Deer. Which means this Fódlan is gonna go down their route.

Alois shrugs again, “I suppose it’s in preparations for the mock battle. He’s taken over as the Deers’ homeroom teacher.”

Yep, I was right.

I guess that’s good for the locals since the Verdant Wind route has arguably the best long-term results for the continent as a whole, what with Rhea’s altered history being actually exposed and the Slitherers being dealt with. But for me? Not so much right about now.

“Hey there, Alois,” the unmistakable voice of Joe Zieja says from behind me, “Looks like we're together for some training again. Think we’ll run into more bandits?”

I turn around and am met by the sight of Byleth and the Golden Deer students. All of them: Claude, Lorenz, Hilda, Marianne, Raphael, Leonie, Ignatz and the white-haired urchin. Most of them look like they have no idea what’s going on, except Claude and Byleth, the former keeping his signature pose with arms behind his head and the latter eyeing the crate Rebecca and I brought.

“I should hope not,” Alois chuckles, “It would be a real _ robbery _, wouldn’t it?”

The students either groan at that joke or simply look unamused by it. Rebecca merely shakes her head while smiling. Can’t say any of those feelings is unwarranted.

Byleth, on the other hand, remains unfazed, “Is everything I asked for in there?” he asks with his characteristic tone, gaze not leaving the crate.

Uh...how do I reply now? If I open my mouth now, I’ll have Claude hounding me with questions from here on out. And I already know the Seteth card won’t deter him.

“Yes it is, Professor,” Rebecca ends up answering first. Dodged a bullet there.

“Very good,” he looks away from the crate, “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going, Professor?” Alois asks.

“Just outside the gates,” is all Byleth gives before he takes off, leaving all of us behind.

“Well, you’ve heard him,” Alois comments before glancing first at his fellow Knights, then at the students and then at Rebecca and me, “Let’s get a move on.”

The Knights and the Deers move right away, with Rebecca and I just a few seconds behind as we pick up the crate.

“Not much of a talker, is he?” Rebecca whispers to me as we walk.

“I guess not,” I whisper back.

* * *

When Byleth said ‘just outside the gates’ I didn’t think he meant literally a spot to the left of the entrance of the walls, and yet here we are, with the Knights forming a circle around the rest of us, the students on one corner of it and Rebecca, Alois, Byleth and me on the other.

“Here we go,” Rebecca tells Byleth as she opens the crate, “Swords, lances, axes, bows, gauntlets, you name it, it’s here.”

The animated doll merely nods at her words, “That is all I needed. Much appreciated,” is all he says before turning away from us and heading for the students.

“What a charmer,” Rebecca says as soon as he’s out of earshot.

“Well, the way Captain Jeralt talked about him, it sounded like he has...difficulties interacting with others. I’m sure he didn’t mean to be rude.”

Oh, if only you two knew…

Rebecca shrugs, “If you say so, Alois. So, anything else you need of us?”

The Knight shakes his head, “No, now we just wait for this exercise to be finished. I can have someone come for you two when it’s time if you’re busy.”

Oh good, I can slip away and not risk blowing my cover any more than it already-

“Nah, let’s stay.”

What?

“Are you sure?” Alois asks.

“Sure I’m sure. I’m curious to see what this new professor is made of.”

...why is that of interest to her?

“Alright,” Alois turns to me “What about you, Eugenio?”

“I tink I’ll go back to de library,” how Byleth ‘intends to raise his army’ is of no interest to me, thank you very much.

“Oh, come on!” Rebecca intervenes “Wouldn’t you like a break from that closet?”

‘Closet’? Not fond of books, is she?

“I would, but Tomas probably needs me,” I reply, “Besides, it’s not like I’m leaving all de work to you. Just give me de time to come back and I’ll help.”

“What’s that?” she says with a dramatic flair. “I’m supposed to stay here and wait by my lonesome while you take your time? Oh, how cruel of you Eugenio.”

Are you for real, Rebecca?

  
  
“She has a point,” Alois concedes “If you wait here, you’ll save us all some time.”

Alois, I’ve never been so betrayed in my life.

“Fine,” I sigh. If I turn them down after that kind of reasoning, it’ll only raise unnecessary questions. At least with Byleth busy with the students, I shouldn’t have to worry about how much I say.

“Hey there! Mind if I join you two?”

...I spoke too soon.

“Hey yourself, Riegan boy,” Rebecca tells Claude “Why aren’t you with your professor?”

“Oh, didn’t you hear?” the poster child of Three Houses’ memes nonchalantly replies “Teach said I could sit this one out, so long as I watched the others. And it sounds like I can have some company doing it.”

Sothis, Naga, Ashunera, Mila and all the other Fire Emblem gods I can’t remember right now, why must you punish me like this?

“Alright, then I leave you three to look after this equipment,” Alois adds, a wide smile on his face, “Enjoy the show.”

I’d enjoy it more if I wasn’t with someone I have to watch out for what I say around!

“You two,” Byleth calls out for us, voice with a higher pitch than I’ve heard so far but still only high enough that we can hear him from a distance, “Bring forth the crate.”

As Rebecca and I pick the crate back up, I mentally sigh. I guess I’ve got no choice but to lie in the grave I dug for myself. I just hope it isn’t one I can’t climb out of.

* * *

The weapons the students and Byleth picked up were their ‘canonical’ weapons of choice for the most part. A wooden sword for the living statue, training lances for the tomboy and mister square hair, a pair of gauntlets for the cheery mountain, bow and dulled arrows for the token nerd and a training axe for the slacking girl.

The brat, of course, has picked no weapon since her magic is all she needs to show just oh how so much better than everyone else she is.

Marianne is apparently not gonna spar with Byleth either and will only assist the students after each bout, in case someone gets bruised too much. Oh, the privileges of being the healer.

“Now,” Byleth says, “For this exercise I will spar with each of you. The objective is not necessarily to defeat me, but only to demonstrate how you apply yourselves to combat. Is that clear?”

“Absolutely!” Raphael intervenes, pumping a fist in excitement, “I volunteer to go first!”

“Sorry, Raphael, I’m going first,” Leonie retorts.

“Actually, you will be third and fourth respectively,” Byleth interrupts them, “The first I will spar with is Lorenz.”

A look of disappointment comes over the faces of both. But while Raphael quickly returns to his cheerful self, Leonie starts glaring daggers at the purple-haired boy.

“It is only natural,” the fancy-pants in question says, “After all, I’m…”

“Take your position,” Byleth cuts him off.

I can’t help but find the look of outrage that comes over Lorenz’s face funny “Excuse me, Professor, that is not…”

“On an actual battlefield, in the time it would take you for a speech you would have died at least five times over,” normally I’d take such a phrase as mocking, but with how Byleth says it, I can’t tell if it’s meant that way.

To his credit, Lorenz doesn’t rebuke Byleth’s comments and only looks mildly pissed.

He steps forward from the group with a confident yet clearly forced gait. As he takes a combat stance his facade shifts into a neutral expression that even fools me for hiding his thinly veiled contempt.

Byleth either doesn’t notice it or doesn’t care. All he responds with is taking position himself in front of Lorenz.

Since I don’t know the first thing about swords and lance, I can’t tell anything about how they’re holding them. All I can observe is their footing, which neither of the two seem to have problems with. At least, when it comes to holding their position.

“Your move, Lorenz,” Byleth says.

“Most appreciated, Professor,” is the boy’s reply before he charges.

What I was expecting from this ‘spar’ was an exchange of blows between the two that would have eventually seen Byleth beat Lorenz, since here his experience in fighting is not limited by gameplay mechanics.

But what actually happens is something much shorter than that.

While Lorenz charges, Byleth swiftly passes his sword to his left hand and goes with a reverse grip. A reverse grip with which he deviates the tip of Lorenz’ lance away from his chest.

And then his right knee connects with Lorenz’s stomach.

As the boy is forced to his knees by that hit, Byleth brings his sword to his throat, “You lost.”

“But…how…?” a gasping Lorenz asks, “I’m the heir...of House Gloucester! I…”

“You let your anger get the best of you,” Byleth intervenes, “I understand your pride at being the future Count Gloucester, Lorenz. But you can’t allow it to blind you. Compare a battle to politics within the Alliance: how do the impulsive ones fare?”

Lorenz’s face falls at Byleth’s question, “Poorly.”

“Precisely,” Byleth offers him a hand, “Remember it for next time.”

For a bit, Lorenz looks at the offered hand with a neutral look. But it isn’t long before he raises on his own. In true Byleth fashion, the mercenary’s face doesn’t betray how he feels about his student’s actions.

“Get a check-over by Marianne,” is all he says, with Lorenz giving a very faint ‘Yes, Professor,’ as an answer before he goes to the bluehead.

“Well, what do you think of Lorenz?” Claude whispers to Rebecca and I, his signature fake smile always present.

“As arrogant as the rest of his family,” Rebecca hisses, a sinister glint in her eyes. And not the same kind of sinister as when we were gathering equipment.

That is...quite a response. Why such animosity towards the entire family?

If Claude is as confused as I am, he doesn’t show it, “Oh? So you’ve met the Count?”

At the question, her gaze turns away from the boy, “Let’s just say their reputation precedes them,” is the curt response she gives.

I get the feeling this is a touchy subject for her.

“Alright,” Claude, who must have shared that sentiment, replies, “And what of you...Hugh...something?”

Oh great. Here we go. Okay, short answers only, don’t give him something to latch on to.

“Eugenio,” I correct him, before giving a shrug, “And no strong opinion.”

Claude is not deterred by that answer, “Oh? I heard you were from a village under his father’s jurisdiction,”

Who the heck told him that? Actually, never mind. If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s discovering things he shouldn’t be able to.

“Come on, lay it on me,” he insists, “I promise I won’t tell him.”

“As I said,” I repeat with as neutral of a tone as I can manage, which I hope won’t make him suspicious, “No strong opinion.”

“The next one will be Hilda,” Byleth announces as he turns to the pink haired girl, thankfully cutting the half-Almyran off before he can continue, “Please step forward.”

“Uh, actually, Professor, could I skip this exercise entirely?” said noble girl asks with a pair of puppy eyes and a broad smile, “I’m no good at fighting. Surely I would only slow everyone down during the mock battle?”

Hilda is her typical work-avoiding self, I see.

“All the more reason to do this,” an unfazed Byleth replies “The sooner you start putting in the effort, the sooner you will be a good fighter.”

Little Miss Lazy Bones’ cute facade doesn’t waver, “Me? A good fighter? Why Professor, I think you may be giving me too much credit.”

“If there is one that is giving you that credit, it’s your brother Lord Holst. The same Lord Holst that watches over the border with Almyra. Do you wish to disappoint him with poor performances at this Academy?”

...I did not just hear Byleth use Hilda’s one fear against her, did I?

Whether it was intentional or not, Hilda immediately tenses at the word ‘disappoint’, with her smile faltering and her stance becoming more rigid.

Byleth undoubtedly notices it too, since his next words are “Now, step forward.”

With hesitant steps, the slacker lumbers towards the spot previously occupied by Lorenz, her face serene as ever, but with an edge this time around.

“Alright,” Hilda begins, “So, what should I…?”

Before she can finish, Byleth raises his sword and takes a swing at her head. With the strength the guy puts behind it and with how quick the swing is, I expect it to connect with the girl’s head and knock her over.

But - with a speed I would not expect in a real scenario from someone as green as Hilda must be - the pinkhead raises her axe and actually manages to parry Byleth’s swing.

“Good reflexes,” is all he says before he proceeds with a barrage of more swings. Swings that Hilda always manages to parry, even though after the initial few parries the strength behind them seems to start wavering.

Byleth’s attacks, however, are not what I would expect from the seasoned swordsman he’s supposed to be. Only wide swings that feel more like one who’s trying to batter others with a stick. Is it on purpose?

Eventually, Hilda’s defenses waver so much that even though she manages to parry the latest swing, the strength behind it knocks her over regardless.

“You lost,” Byleth says before offering his hand to the noble girl, who, unlike Lorenz, accepts, “Do you know why that is?”

“Well, I did warn you I wasn’t any good at fighting,” she replies before raises her arms, “I mean, have you seen these noodly little arms?”

Huh...she’s not completely wrong. With the way she performed as a playable unit, I always imagined her with toned arm muscles many would kill for. Instead, they’re...average is the best way I can describe them. Not really muscular, but not ‘noodly’ either. Perhaps the muscles will come later?

“That is not true,” Byleth replies, “Otherwise you would have fallen to the first hit. No, what you did wrong was merely reacting, never taking the offensive. That strategy only leads to tiring you out and succumbing to fatigue.”

“Well…” Hilda nervously twirls one of her pigtails, “I guess I…”

“Fear not,” Byleth cuts her off, “In the months to come your training will help you overcome this flaw. It will only be a matter of time.”

I can’t tell if Byleth is being sarcastic here or if he genuinely doesn’t realize Hilda was trying to have him not ‘make her work’, as she would put it.

“Now, get a check-over by Marianne,” he ultimately dismisses her, “Raphael, it’s your turn.”

The jock replaces Miss Lazyness with less drama than his two classmates. Well, less drama with Byleth. As he takes his position aside from him, he does a series of overly-showy stretches with his arms.

Strangely enough, while he does take a combat stance (still not planting himself properly to the ground, by the way) Byleth does not this time.

“Alright, Professor!” he excitedly announces as he loads a right hook, “HERE I COME!”

Raphael charges at his teacher. His teacher who takes a step to the left and stretches his right leg. A right leg that Raphael, with his momentum, trips over.

It’s...pretty humiliating, to be honest.

Before he can raise up, Byleth places the tip of his sword in between his scapulae, “You lost.”

As soon as he removes the sword, Raphael gets right back up, giving the doll no chance to offer his hand this time.

“Well damn, Professor,” the big guy comments as he stretches his back “You are really strong, you know?”

“Strength has nothing to do with this,” Byleth corrects, “In that aspect, you are my superior.”

I did _ not _ just hear that, did I?

“Your mistake was announcing your attacks.”

“Uh…” Raphael scratches his head, “But since this is a training exercise, isn’t it right to warn you?”

“That is not what I meant, although you would do well to remember not to voice your adversaries when you’re about to attack.” 

Oh come on, Byleth, he’s _ not _ that dumb!

At least Raphael doesn’t seem bothered by the comment.

“What I meant is that while your physical strength is impressive, you are sorely lacking in terms of speed and dexterity. Your opponents will see your attacks coming long before you initiate them.

“Also, and this is part of why you fell so easily, you must learn to properly plant your feet to the ground.”

Called it.

“Well, that’s what we’re all here for, isn’t it?” the blonde comments, apparently taking the critiques in stride, “Get better where we’re strong and correct our flaws. I’m sure you’ll show us how to do that.”

Byleth, being his usual self, has no apparent reaction to the praise, “That is the spirit you’ll need,” he nudges towards Marianne after saying that, “Get a check-over.”

“On it!” Raphael replies before running towards the bluehead.

The merc-turned-professor then turns towards the orangehead of the group, “Leonie, your turn.”

Just like Raphael, Leonie takes position aside from Byleth without complaint, only opening her mouth as she takes a combat stance to say “Get ready for a real challenge! I’m Captain Jeralt’s best pupil after all!”

Goddammit, her obsession with Jeralt…

Byleth merely takes a combat stance of his own, “Show me.”

To Leonie’s credit, her bout with Byleth is less one-sided than the previous three. While Byleth’s attacks force her on the defensive more than once, she does manage to take the offensive every now and then, unlike Hilda, but does not fail because of reckless charges like Lorenz and Raphael. It could be an impression due to the fact this spar is so far the longest, but the two seem evenly-matched to me. Although the fact Leonie’s face twists more and more into a snarl seems to imply it’s not going as well as she’d hoped.

Eventually, Byleth attempts a jab at Leonie’s head. The tomboy makes to parry with the tip of her lance, but the Ashen Demon’s attack turns out to be a faint, and instead he ‘slashes’ her ribcage.

That attack leaves her winded for a few moments, but she recovers pretty quickly and charges again.

Byleth, however, grabs the tip of the lance, stopping that charge, “You lost.”

“What?!” a outraged Leonie asks, “No way! Let’s keep fighting!”

“Had this been a real attack, my sword would have slashed your lungs. And you would be dead within minutes.”

...that would already be a creepy thing to hear from anyone. Byleth’s tone making it sound like it would be nothing to him, makes it much worse.

Leonie, however, seems unfazed by it, “But I’m not! Let’s go on!”

In response, Byleth pulls Leonie’s lance, and by extension Leonie herself, and then sucker-punches the girl under the chin, making her fall to the ground.

As soon as she’s able to raise up, Leonie starts massaging her jaw while glaring daggers at Byleth.

Once more, Byleth is unaffected by that glare, “Now if you’re finished, get your check-over from Marianne.”

The would-be future merc points a finger menacingly at her teacher “Next time I’ll get you, Byleth. Just you wait!” and then storms towards Marianne, smoke practically coming out of her ears.

‘Byleth’, eh? Not calling him ‘Professor’? My, I hope no one reports her for disrespecting her teacher.

“Quite the fiery girl, isn’t she?” Claude whispers to me, reminding me of the precarious situation I’m in right now, “Is everyone from Sauin like that?”

“Wouldn’t know,” I whisper back, “Never visited it,” the one true thing I’ve told Claude today.

“Really? I heard they’re like right next to you. Never at least met anyone from it?”

“Not me.”

“Ignatz and Lysithea,” Byleth continues, “Since both of your styles consist of fighting from a distance, we will do something different for you two.”

He then takes several steps backwards, almost coming right where Rebecca, Claude and I are, “I will come right at you. You will attempt to stop me. If you manage to hit me, you win. If I reach and touch you, I win. Is that clear?”

“Crystal clear, Professor!” the gremlin answers.

“Huh...sure,” Ignatz hesitantly adds, “Who is first?”

“You, Ignatz.”

The bespectacled boy gulps at that answer but steps forward nonetheless. Slowly and with a trembling hand, he picks an arrow from his quiver but doesn’t nock it.

“Are you ready?” Byleth asks.

_ That _ is when Ignatz shakily nocks the arrow, “R-ready.”

“Then let’s proceed.”

As soon as he says that, Byleth dashes towards his student. Taken by surprise, Ignatz loses his arrow, but before it can connect, Byleth moves to the left, dodging the arrow entirely.

Ignatz attempts to hit Byleth several more times, but the mercenary manages to dodge all of them. And as he gets closer to his student, Ignatz becomes paler and paler. To the point that when Byleth is right in front of him, he’s whiter than snow.

To Byleth’s credit, at least, instead of a hit that knocks the greenhead over, like I was expecting when he said ‘touch you’, he just lightly taps his head.

“You lost,” he still says.

Colour returns to Ignatz’s face, but only for it to now look crestfallen, “I’m sorry, Professor. I don’t…”

“Tell me,” Byleth cuts him off, “Is this the first time you’ve tried to hit a moving target?”

“I...uh…” the four-eyes hesitates, “Yes...I guess it is.”

“Unless your future career will be as a hunter or as an assassin,” Ignatz pales again at that last word, “Your targets will most likely only be moving ones. Like your classmates, it will take you practice to learn how to handle those. But for now, there is one suggestion I can give you: aim where your target will be, not where it is. Is that clear?”

“Uh...yes, Professor. I...think it is.”

Judging by the face he’s making, it most definitely isn’t.

“Very good,” Byleth replies before turning to the one student left, “Lysithea, it’s your turn.”

Immediately after saying that, Byleth walks back to his spot while Ignatz is replaced by the little devil, who raises her open hands in a pose that I’m not sure what it’s supposed to be for.

But, strangely enough, as soon as she does that, I sense some sort of...tingling in the air around me. It is not like a wind suddenly blowing or some other natural phenomenon, but something more...ethereal. Like what I sensed when I first conjured my Crest. It feels neither malignant or benevolent. It simply is there.

The timing of this feeling...Hanneman said adepts at magic can sense when other mages are tapping into the surrounding energies. Is that what this is? I don’t remember feeling it when others cast spells.

“Are you ready?”

The urchin narrows her eyes, “Ready.”

Like with Ignatz, Byleth immediately dashes towards his student. Unlike Ignatz, the imp takes a more tactical approach.

Her first move is launching a fireball on a spot in between her and Byleth, which the mercenary only manages to avoid by stopping his dash. Leaving him no room to breath, the brat then launches a ball of some sort goo (the spell Miasma, I’m assuming), which Byleth barely dodges.

Undeterred, the brat keeps up a barrage of fireballs and Miasmas that while none of them manage to hit Byleth, they also keep him from getting closer.

That is, until she has to stop that barrage to bend over and pant. Byleth wastes no time and immediately rushes her again. Before the brat has the chance to restart her barrage, he grabs her by the collar and lifts her like she weighs nothing.

“You lost.”

“Put me down!” the urchin whines in a rather kid-like fashion. Something I can’t help but be internally pleased about.

Is it petty? Probably. Do I care? No.

Unfortunately, Byleth obliges her request and gently puts her back on her feet.

“Tell me what you did wrong,” he then tells her.

The brat looks at him miffed but opts to simply answer: “I left you an opening instead of keep attacking.”

“That is the end result of your error, but not the error itself,” the doll replies, “You went all out immediately, without pacing yourself for a prolonged fight. A valid strategy if you are facing opponents who can’t dodge your attacks so easily. But otherwise, this is where it will lead you.”

The brat still looks miffed, but doesn’t protest Byleth’s comments. Here’s to hoping she learned even just a modicum of humility from this exercise.

“Any questions?”

For some reason, the her features relax at that prod, “None, Professor.”

“Good,” he then turns to the other students, “I believe this concludes our exercise. I will think over who to include in the group for the mock battle and let you know my decision tomorrow. Any question?”

None of the students says anything.

“Then we’re finished,” Byleth concludes as he nudges his head towards us. Or rather, the crate we’re looking after.

Everyone quickly puts their weapons back in the crate and, shortly after, we’re on our way back to the Monastery. As we march, I mule over a couple of things.

That certainly was...an exercise. If Byleth managed to get enough of a reputation in the mercenary world to be nicknamed ‘Ashen Demon’, I _ was _ expecting him to be better than the students, but not to the point of delivering such humiliating defeats.

Of course, with those same defeats he might have antagonized Lorenz and Leonie (and perhaps, to a lesser extent, Hilda). I wonder if he’ll actually manage to become as good friends with them as the game implied after this.

“I must say,” Rebecca comments with a pleased note to her voice, “This professor seems much more competent than his predecessor. It’s a shame it won’t be enough for the mock battle.”

Uh?

“Oho,” Claude, who for some reason decided to walk back alongside the two of us, replies, “You’re convinced we’re going to lose?”

She answers with a knowing smile, “Well, in over twenty years I’ve been here, the Golden Deer have scored the least amount of victories of the three Houses. By a rather large margin, I might add. Do you know why that is, Riegan boy?”

“Well, you said yourself the previous Teach wasn’t as good. Maybe that’s it?”

“It did play a part. But the Golden Deer as a whole suffer from a weakness the other two Houses don’t share. One your Professor has not touched upon today. Your lack of unity.”

I...have no clue what that is supposed to mean.

If Claude is bothered by her assessment, he doesn’t show it, “And that makes us weaker than the Eagles and Lions why exactly?”

“Because lone wolves can not stand against organized packs.

“My apologies,” she adds while not looking apologetic in the least, “But I think your new professor’s skill will not be enough to win.”

“Oh, I think you’re underestimating Teach, miss,” the upside down archer chuckles, “He’s a lot craftier than you give him credit for. I’m sure we’ll win fair and square.”

‘Claude’ and ‘fair and square’ put together are probably the funniest thing I’ve heard all month.

“Perhaps,” Rebecca concedes off-handedly, “Maybe in future years he’ll remember how this mock battle went and adjust his tactics accordingly.”

Oh, the irony...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are again. With what is probably the longest chapter so far. No idea how that happened, but I hope you all enjoyed it!
> 
> Once more, thanks to LowerBlack for betareading. Come join us at the TreeHouse Discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> See you next time with the mock battle!


	11. Chapter 10-Three Houses

[Byleth]

“These are the people that will participate in the mock battle,” I conclude my announcement. The reactions to it are...mixed.

Claude looks intrigued by my choices. Not in a condescending manner, but genuinely intrigued. It doesn’t necessarily mean he approves. I know, for a fact, that the team I picked was not the one he had in mind. But at least he doesn’t disapprove, so I shouldn’t have to expect him second-guessing (or worse, undermining) everything I’ll say tomorrow.

Hilda is relieved at the news she won’t be on the team, unsurprisingly. I had admittedly thought of adding her since the stakes here will be higher than a simple training exercise but lower than a life-or-death situation. A good opportunity for her to start fighting her apparent fear of disappointing others. But between how the team had to be structured and how counterproductive rushing her could be, I chose not to.

Ignatz doesn’t seem surprised, but his face falls nonetheless. It is unfortunate. The fact I excluded him will probably not help his low confidence. But with a group of only five and Claude being a required member of said group, we can’t have two archers.

Raphael doesn’t take it nearly as badly. He is another person I had considered, but his recklessness makes him too predisposed to break formation. And said recklessness will not go away with just one exercise.

Lysithea is probably the one that looks the most pleased by my decisions, though, I had originally thought of not including her. She’s impressive with magic, that is undeniable, but her performance yesterday proved she runs a high risk of burning herself out too quickly. Yet we need a mage, and the only options for that were Lorenz or her. And from what I’ve seen of their performances so far, she’s far more powerful than Lorenz.

Marianne looks...strangely horrified. I did realize she suffered from low self-esteem, but I was not expecting a reaction like this. Unfortunately, we need her. A healer more often than not makes the difference between victory or death, and she’s the most proficient in that aspect.

As for Leonie and Lorenz…

“No, I refuse to accept this!” Leonie angrily protests, “How come I don’t get to join the mock battle,” she points at Lorenz “But _ he _ does?”

Lorenz scoffs at her protests, “Please, I was an obvious choice from the start.”

“Oh, yeah?” she argues, “Then how is it you were knocked out in five seconds tops yesterday?”

Actually, they were eight, and only because I had purposely unbalanced Lorenz’s focus. Otherwise, it would have taken me a little more than that.

“Unlike you, my form is not sloppy.” Lorenz keeps his composure as he argues back, “I have no idea why the Professor held back with you, but he could have defeated you just as easily.”

While calling Leonie sloppy is an exaggeration, he’s not wrong that I was holding back. Mostly to assess how she fights. And, just as I thought, she is only copying Father’s technique instead of making it her own.

“I’m not sloppy! Unlike you, I…!”

As a monster incapable of expressing normal human emotions, I have always had problems raising my voice to a point it would draw enough attention to interrupt arguments. That means I have always needed to rely on other methods to do that.

Today, the method is slamming my hand on the desk with as much force as necessary, but not to the point of actually damaging it.

Both of them take the hint, thankfully.

“Listen to me carefully,” I tell them as I walk over the space between their desks. It doesn’t escape me that _ all _ of the students pale to some degree at how my tone remains the same. The same reaction as everyone else that came before them, but it doesn’t change the fact Leonie and Lorenz need to hear this. “Today, your skills are equally matched, but you both also present glaring flaws. Not simply in your form,” I glance at Lorenz to make sure he heard that part, “But also your attitude, your coordination and your team work. But, as my Father always says, each battle can be a chance to learn. Even mock ones.”

“Had it been up to me, all of you would have participated,” at the side of my vision, I notice Hilda shifting uncomfortably, “But with the limitations imposed by the Academy, I had to balance between making a balanced group and choosing those who stand to learn the most from this battle.”

I turn to Leonie, who has been listening intently to my words so far, “That is how I decided who needed to be on this team. Not how well they performed yesterday.”

She looks disappointed by my explanation. A shame.

I then turn to Lorenz, who has kept an air of pride, but I can tell from his eyes that he’s listening, “And that means you are on this team because there will be something you can learn in this battle to come. Not because of your prowess.”

“And what is that, Professor?” his question comes out with an even tone. But a gulp just before asking escaped his composure.

“To truly understand it, you will have to figure it out alone,” it is true. If I tell him what it is, he will merely scoff at it, “However, when the mock battle ends, I recommend you consider how the results would apply in a real situation.”

Lorenz has a slight, but clearly nervous, chuckle, “Professor, it is called _ mock _ battle for a reason.”

“Yes. Because the only things you will put at stake are your pride and, should we lose, bragging rights. But any of the very same mistakes you’ll make tomorrow could cost you so much more during a real battle.”

Those among his classmates who haven’t seen past the surface, probably interpret my words as just his life. But his slight, barely noticeable wince tells me he understands what I’m really talking about.

I have a look around to see how the other students reacted.

Ignatz is the most obvious of everyone, with shaky hands, dilated pupils and drops of sweat coming down from his forehead.

All the others, at a first glance, seem to have not been affected at all by my words. But a previously absent tension in their postures implies otherwise.

The one exception to that is Marianne. Her posture has not tensed from before. Also unlike the others, her expression is not the same as always. She seems slightly...less sorrowful? Does the prospect of death not worry her?

No. One that reacts in such a way either does not truly grasp its implications or longs for it. And with the attitude she normally has, I can understand which of the two she is.

Another thing I will have to deal with during this year. But not today.

“Now,” I walk back to my desk, “Let the lesson begin.”

* * *

[Eugenio]

It isn’t often that Alois and I manage to cross paths during lunch. Most of the time, he comes later than I do because he’s busy with his knightly duties. That today we actually managed to meet was a pleasant surprise.

“Would you be interested in watching the mock battle?”

The question he has for me, however, is just puzzling.

“Watching it?” I ask in confusion, “Dere can be spectators? I tought it was an Academy personnel-only ting.”

“In theory yes,” he replies, “In practice if someone, say one of the Knight-lieutenants, were to accompany you, it wouldn’t be an issue.”

Huh...rather sneaky of Alois. Still, that doesn’t answer another thing.

“Why exactly are you inviting me?”

“Why not?” he replies chirpy, “The library shouldn’t be too busy that day. I’m sure Tomas wouldn’t mind if you are not around this time.”

Huh...I myself wouldn’t mind not being around the guy, to say the least. And the break in the routine wouldn’t be bad either. Watching teens beat each other up isn’t exactly my kind of fun, but perhaps…

“Besides, it would be the perfect opportunity to introduce you to Jeralt.”

Scratch that! I’m not getting the attention of another of the game’s characters!

“Huh…” I frantically reply, “Perhaps it’s best not to.”

A perplexed look comes to Alois’ face, “Why not?”

I lean a bit closer to him, “I would rader not have to explain my situation to him as well. And since we’ve already established people can tell my accent is not what I claim...” I trail off, letting him put the dots together.

Not sure if it works, since next thing I know he’s back to cheerfulness, “Ah, don’t worry about it. Jeralt is native to the Kingdom, not the Alliance.”

He’s native to the Kingdom of centuries ago. He’s been around for quite a while. Long enough to know when accents don’t match up.

“And even if he notices, I’m sure he won’t mind. From what he told me of his group, he’s used to being side by side with foreigners.”

That is not what concerns me, Alois, “And what about de fact he’s one of de people dat is not supposed to know about it?”

The Knight raises a hand in a reassuring gesture, “He won’t think of it as something he must know,” he then places it on his chest, “I swear it on my honor as a Knight.”

‘Honor as a Knight’ more often than not is just a bunch of hot air. But not to Alois. He’s actually idealistic and naive enough to believe what he’s saying. How do I even turn him down in a way that doesn’t hurt his feelings now?

“...alright,” I reluctantly tell him, “Aldough I’ll need to talk with Tomas about dis.”

“Of course,” Alois says reassuringly.

Never thought I’d say this, but I’m kind of hoping the disfigured mole says he does need me tomorrow.

* * *

[Byleth]

Today is the day of the mock battle. The battlefield is a small clearing not far from the Monastery. It isn’t large enough to have anything near the number of students at the Monastery, but more than enough for three groups of five people.

Who exactly the other two Houses picked for this battle, I found out only now. Manuela and Edelgard have chosen Hubert, Ferdinand and Dorothea, while Hanneman and Dimitri have chosen Dedue, Mercedes and Ashe. From what little I gathered of every student’s abilities during this week, none of them seem bad choices for balanced teams.

The Archbishop, Seteth and a few other clerics are going to watch over it from a hill right next to us and will warp anyone who is defeated out of the field and attend their injuries. Other spectators will be the students who haven’t been chosen for the mock battle, the other professors and a few Knights. And among them, there will be the overseer of this battle: Father.

And I say ‘will be’ because right now, as everyone is preparing for the battle, he’s right next to me, arms crossed.

“So this is it, huh?” he asks, looking at my students as they prepare their weapons, “How do you feel?”

“This is not ideal,” I confess to him.

He turns to me, an eyebrow arched, “What isn’t ideal? The equipment?”

“This whole mock battle,” I precise, “Had all members of the class been allowed to participate, they would have all benefited from it.”

Father snorts at that, “No arguments there. Unfortunately, the Archbishop never shared that sentiment.”

…’never’ shared that sentiment? As in he brought it up to her before?

“You tried to argue against it back in the day?” I ask Father.

He nods and sighs, “I did. Unfortunately between the lack of nearby areas that are serviceable to the classes’ numbers and her own conviction that a restricted number would help cement the professors’ authority, she never wavered about it.”

I’m noticing she places a lot of importance towards authority in general. Makes me wonder to what lengths she would go to uphold it.

“In any case,” Father continues, “Remember to take this battle for what it is. I know you want the brats to realize just what sorts of dangers they’ll be facing out there, but if you don’t take things at their own time, it will be harder to have them listen to you.”

“I know that, Father,” is all I can tell him, “But I’m also worried about what will happen if I’m too lenient.”

Father places a hand on my shoulder. A gesture he has done before in the past. But like always, I fail to see the point of it.

“Relax,” he says with a reassuring tone, “You won’t have to bear this burden alone. And no matter what happens, I’m sure you’ll do your best.”

Of course I will. My ‘best’ is what’s going to teach these teenagers how to stay alive. But that isn’t what Father is concerned about.

“Don’t worry, Father,” I tell him, “I’ve got this.”

His lips turn upwards into a smile, “Glad to hear.”

“Now,” he reverts back to his usual stoic expression, “Excuse me, but Alois insisted on introducing a friend of his before the battle. Good luck out there.”

He walks off after saying that.

Of course what he really was worried about was my wellbeing. He has only been way too fond of the monster he has for a son.

“** _Now, that’s nonsense and you know it._ **”

It’s the truth, Sothis. The truth only you refuse to accept.

“** _Nuh-uh,_ ** ” she retorts “ ** _That’s just everyone calling you names and you playing along. I can tell your Father doesn’t think of you like that. Nor do I. And neither should you._ **”

I mentally sigh. This isn’t the first time we’ve had this debate. Can we focus on the mock battle for now?  
  
“ ** _Fine,_ ** ” she whines, “ ** _But trust me, we’re going to talk about this again._ **”

Unfortunately, I know that’s the truth.

* * *

[Eugenio]

As it turned out, Solon did not need me. Which gave me no excuse for not coming. Truly fantastic.

Apparently, as a spectator, I’ll have to watch the mock battle unfold from atop a hill, along with everyone else. Which isn’t bad, except for the fact that ‘everyone else’ includes Rhea and Seteth. Who either haven’t noticed me yet or just don’t mind that I’m here. I hope it’s the latter.

“Ah, Captain!” Alois all but shouts, “There you are!”

It’s kind of funny that despite all the talks that there have been about Jeralt, it is only now that I laid my eyes on him. Of course, I haven’t actively looked for him, and it’s very unlikely that his duties would bring him to the library, but still.

“I hear you loud and clear, Alois, no need to be so loud,” the reinstated captain of the Knights sighs. And man, does his face look just as battered as in the game, if not more so. I swear if he were to be given an euro for every scar he’s got, he could retire somewhere fancy. I guess a prolonged lifespan of fighting will do that to you.

His weary eyes turn to me, “This the new friend of yours you wanted me to meet?”

Wait, Alois told him about me?

“Yup,” the younger Knight cheerfully responds before indicating to me, “Captain, this is Eugenio, Tomas’ assistant at the library,” he then turns to me and points at Jeralt, “Eugenio, this is Captain Jeralt Eisner.”

Alright. Time to play nice with the main character’s dad.

“Greetings, Captain,” I offer a hand to him, “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Jeralt grabs my hand and shakes it. For a man his size, he doesn’t have too strong of a grip. Although thanks to his fingerless gloves (how the heck hasn’t he lost a finger yet?), I can feel just how coarse his skin is.

“Likewise,” he replies monotonously. Not really expressive himself, is he?

“Tomas’ assistant,” he then mutters, “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Oh? Why not? “You and Tomas were also friends back in de day?”

“Not exactly,” he grunts, “Our respective duties never allowed us a chance to interact much. But the man I remember was always very dedicated to handling the library himself. I guess age softened him up in that respect.”

Nope. A stereotypical evil wizard replaced him during the years you were away. The man you remember is no longer among the living.

“In any case, I’ve also heard some things about you beforehand.”

Ah, this is a good time to ask what exactly Alois told him about me.

“From Alois?” I ask.

“Surprisingly not,” what? “From rumors coming from the other Knights,” WHAT? “A man talking with a funny accent that they found passed out in the woods.”

Oh fuck, now he’s gonna ask about where I’m from, isn’t he? Dammit, I knew I shouldn’t have…

“How’d that happen?”

“...I beg your pardon?”

“How’d you end up in the woods? It’s not something that normally happens.”

Uh...this is the first time I’ve been asked that actually. I’ve never had to come up with an explanation for anyone before. Never was given any instruction on what to say from Rhea and Seteth.

So what do I tell him? Obviously I can’t tell him the whole story. But perhaps just the basics? Just so there’s a lesser chance of slipping up in lies later on?

“I’m...not entirely sure myself,” I start, “All I remember before waking up in de woods is dat someone took me away from my home. And den I was dere.”

Jeralt furrows his brow, “Took you? Who? And why would they do that?”

“_ Some twisted jester who wanted to have fun and gave me a new type of Crest for good measure, _” is what I would like to say.

Instead, I just shake my head, “I have no idea. I don’t remember faces and I have noting wort kidnapping for.”

I was hoping that would be enough for him to hear. But since his brow doesn’t unfurrow, it’s clear it isn’t, “Evidently someone out there doesn’t think so. Unless they took the wrong person, which would also explain why they let you go so easily.”

Ha! That someone else was supposed to go through this shitshow but it ended up being me for whatever reason would be one cruel joke.

“But in either case, why are you still here?” huh? “I’d assume you’d want to return to your village after an experience like that.”

That’s the thing: I can’t. I don’t know how to do that yet.

And again, it’s something I can’t tell him.

And so this is the part where I have to lie, “I wasn’t exactly in a good financial situation back home. De Church offered room and board in exchange for my services. Sounded like a reasonable deal at de moment.”

Jeralt briefly arches an eyebrow at my words, but beyond that I can’t tell how exactly he’s taking my words. Does he not believe anything I just said? Is he trying to understand what is true and what isn’t?

“Well,” he finally snorts “If that’s how things are, I can’t fault you for that logic.”

What’s that supposed to mean? Is it some weird way of saying ‘Alright, keep your secrets’?

“Sir!” a Knight interrupts us, “The students are ready to begin.”

“It looks like duty calls,” Jeralt sighs before addressing both Alois and me, “Excuse me, you two,” he then turns around and goes to the edge of the hill.

Right after that, Alois approaches me and whispers, “I didn’t know you were facing financial problems.”

“I wasn’t,” I whisper back, to which Alois doesn’t say anything else.

* * *

[Byleth]

“Remember,” I tell the students, “In a three way battle, we must always have our eyes on both of the enemy forces. Otherwise, one side could overwhelm us while we’re busy fighting the other.”

Of the four students, only Lorenz and Lysithea are openly attentive to what I’m saying. Claude is acting like he’s not taking my words seriously, but the glint in his eyes shows that he’s also paying attention. Both of which are good.

Marianne, on the other hand, looks lost far away in her thoughts, her gaze not really looking at me. Not good. If she isn’t focused on the present, she’s going to be a sitting duck during the battle.

“So how are we going to handle this, Professor?” Lysithea eagerly asks.

“When the battle starts, wait to engage,” I reply, “We have the advantage that the other two Houses will be fighting each other as well. That means they’ll have to split their forces. Once we know who they are both sending our way, we will intervene accordingly.”

“Forgive me, Professor, but I must object,” Lorenz intervenes, “Just waiting for the enemy to come for us leaves us vulnerable to being overwhelmed in case both the Black Eagles and the Blue Lions decide to focus on us first. Furthermore, it is also a rather cowardly tactic.”

There’s the attitude I was expecting from Lorenz. Now it’s time to take care of it.

“Whether it’s cowardly or not is the least of our worries, Lorenz,” I tell him, “And in a situation like ours there are always going to be risks, no matter the strategy employed. It is only a matter of evaluating which presents the most acceptable ones.”

“But…” before he can finish his argument, trumpets start sounding in the distance. It appears it’s time to begin.

“Battle formation,” I immediately tell the students and we all take the positions I told everyone to, with Lorenz and I as the first line, Lysithea and Claude as the second one and Marianne right behind them.

Now let us hope I haven’t misjudged Professors Hanneman and Manuela.

* * *

[Eugenio]

Alois and I manage to find a good view point shortly before his fellow Knights sound the start of the mock battle.

From what I can tell, the three Houses have been placed at the farthest corners of this clearing, with Manuela and the Eagles to the north, Hanneman and the Lions to the south-east, and Byleth and the Deers to the south-west.

The teams for the Eagles and the Lions are, unsurprisingly, the same ones as the ones they’d be in chapter one of the game. As for the Deers, Lorenz is the only one from the Deers’ version of the team to have made it, with Hilda and Ignatz replaced by Marianne and the little gremlin.

The two girls I can understand. Marianne is the only one of them in the game that starts with healing spells, which Byleth must have taken into consideration since he didn’t spar with her two days ago.

And as loath as I am to admit it, the brat was probably the one that performed the best out of the six that Byleth fought. That plus her insane magical power and it’s no wonder he decided to have her present.

But why is Lorenz here? The only one that did a poorer job than him was Raphael. Why not take Leonie with him? Or heck, even Hilda or Ignatz if he didn’t want to deal with Leonie’s fangirling?

“This is going to be great, I can already tell,” Alois cheerfully comments from besides me, “I bet that with their new professor, the Golden Deer will win this.”

My, my. Why so certain of their victory when Rebecca said they’re the House with fewer victories under their belt?

“What makes you say dat?” I ask him.

“The fact Byleth was trained by Jeralt, of course!” Alois replies excitedly “With such a role model for a teacher, there’s no way he’s gonna lead them to defeat!”

I know from the game that Byleth wins this no matter what. But that’s still a poor logic to make your expectations with, especially with the factors in disfavor of Byleth’s victory.

As the battle begins, all of the students start moving out.

On the Eagles’ side, Manuela stays in the rearguard while the students split into two groups, with a hatted girl that must be Dorothea and red-headed boy that must be mister ‘I am Ferdinand von Aegir’ heading towards the Lions’ position, while Hubert and Edelgard head towards the Deers’ position.

Thirsting for Byleth already, are we girl?

On the Lions’ side, the situation is not too different, with Dedue, Ashe and a blonde girl that must be Mercedes heading towards the Deers’ position while Hanneman and Dimitri head towards the Eagles’.

Boy oh boy, the meme boy and the songstress are in for a world of pain going against Dimitri.

And on the Deers’ side...nothing really is moving. Byleth and his students are just holding their position, with him, Lorenz, Claude and the imp basically forming a protective circle around Marianne.

What the heck are you up to now, Byleth?

* * *

[Byleth]

Silence.

At the start, that is all we are treated with after taking position. The sounds of animals in the distance and the flow of the wind are all sounds independent of what is unfolding here today. But when it comes to the sound of battle or people marching, sounds that should be present today, nothing of the sort comes our way.

As we wait, some of the students start arguing. I’m not sure who begins or how it develops, but it comes to the point of Claude and Lorenz being in an argument. What exactly they say, I tune out. We can’t afford to be caught by surprise while we’re distracted.

Finally, in the distance north of us, I hear them: footsteps. Two sets of them. The Eagles are making their move.

Still nothing from the east yet. The Lions are not upon us right now. Could it be they all charged the Eagles head on? It’s possible, but not a certainty.

“Enough,” I cut off the students, “Two Black Eagles students are approaching. Get ready.”

All five of us turn towards the Eagles’ camp’s direction. Which turns out to be the wrong move, as the steps suddenly stop, the two students no doubt deciding to hide in hopes of a better opportunity to strike.

Ferdinand gave me the impression he was too reckless to pull off such a tactic. But Edelgard, Hubert, Dorothea and Manuela, with what I know of them, seemed perfectly capable of it. And aside from Edelgard, all of them are mages. Best not to blindly charge. First I have to figure out _ where _ they’re hiding.

To the east, still all quiet. Just the sound of birds chirping and bushes being moved.

...bushes being moved?

Someone is hiding behind them. That must mean the Blue Lions have caught up. Not good for us with the Black Eagles already laying in wait.

Still, the Lions are making a mistake the Eagles are not: they are not standing still. Which gives me a rough idea of where they’re hiding.

“Lysithea,” I whisper to the small girl, “I need you to set fire to that bush,” I nudge towards the one in question.

Lysithea’s eyes widen in confusion, “Uh...why, Professor?”

“Do it and you’ll see,” I simply answer. Best not to give away my intention.

Lysithea still looks confused but asks no more and quickly casts Fire.

Not long after the bush has caught fire, Ashe, Mercedes and Dedue get out of a nearby one, all three of them coughing. Good, I was hoping that’d smoke them out.

“There they are,” I inform the Deers, pointing with my training sword at the three Lions.

“Excellent, Professor,” Lorenz replies before charging towards them, “Allow me to show you how a noble fights.”

“Wait,” I try to warn Lorenz, but to no avail. Before anything can be done, he has already engaged Dedue. A vastly superior combatant from a physical point of view against whom he has next to no chance.

I had hoped to rely on Lysithea’s magical prowess to deal with the Duscur native. But it seems some adjustments are in order.

“Claude, keep an eye out for those two Eagles,” the last thing we need is those two showing up in the middle of this.

“Lysithea, keep Mercedes and Ashe busy,” one against two are not favorable odds, but we can’t afford to have them assisting Dedue.

“Marianne, stay behind her and keep her in fighting shape, I’m going to aid Lorenz” we’re doomed if either of them is defeated, so our best chance at defeating Dedue is for us both to take him on.

Miasma starts flying over me as I rush towards the two students locked in combat. Thankfully no arrows get anywhere near me during the time it takes me to close the distance and prevent a swing of Dedue’s axe from hitting Lorenz’s head.

“Lorenz,” I tell my student, “Get rid of Mercedes.”

“Excuse me, Professor,” the noble boy argues, “That is hardly...”

Before he can finish, Dedue manages to move my sword out of the way and punch Lorenz square in the face, showing more strength than I’d anticipated. Lorenz’s nose makes a noticeable sound as it breaks.

Before he finishes falling to the ground, Lorenz is warped away. Leaving me alone with Dedue.

The Duscur native is a force to be reckoned with, that is for sure. Very few people I’ve fought had more raw strength than he does. And because of that same strength, I also can not go with direct parries, or I risk wearing myself out. All I can do is dodge and redirect his hits.

Which is actually simple, all things considered. Be it because of inexperience or a natural disposition due to his size (or both), his attacks are slow enough to be predicted. But that doesn’t help much considering he’s sturdy enough to take most hits in stride.

Still, there is one way I can use his bulkiness against him.

At the next swing of his axe, I redirect his attack upwards.

And then I kick at his knee.

The gigantic axeman cries out in pain and quickly crumbles to the ground. Now is my chance to finish him.

“Teach!”

At the sound of Claude’s voice, I risk a glance towards the Deers. Claude is providing cover fire, while Lysithea is on the ground, hands on her stomach. Marianne is attending to her, but she’s an easy target.

Very well, change of plans.

Ignoring Dedue for now, I rush towards Ashe.

By the time the freckled boy notices me, it’s already too late for him to redirect his aim at me. Without losing a moment, I grab him by his shoulders and lob him Mercedes’ way. Both of the Blue Lions students tumble to the ground as soon as Ashe hits her. That should give Claude and the others some breathing room, if not a chance to finish them off.

Meanwhile, Dedue has risen back to his feet. He does his best to not show it, but it’s clear he’s favouring his unwounded leg. That should give me an edge this time around.

The two of us engage again and repeat the same exchange of blows as before. If Dedue is as smart as I think, he won’t let his guard down like before. I have to think of a better way to take him down.

At the corner of my vision, I notice that Lysithea has gotten back to her feet. And that she is charging another spell. Good girl.

In order to help her, I position myself so that for Dedue to keep his eyes on me, he’s giving his back to Lysithea. As I take a couple steps backwards from him, the Lion narrows his eyes, probably suspecting something is up.

It is not enough to save him from the Miasma Lysithea hits him with, which makes him fall face-first to the ground. It isn’t long before he’s warped away.

Glancing around, I notice that Ashe and Mercedes are also no longer around. They must have been warped after I threw Ashe or shortly after.

I quickly get back to the Golden Deer, “Good work everyone,” I tell them, which gets a pleased look from Lysithea and a smile slightly more genuine than usual from Claude. Marianne doesn’t seem to react, “Now we must…”

Before I can finish my sentence, Lysithea is hit in the back by three Miasmas, which knock her down immediately, forcing her to be warped away.

Looking at where those spells came from, I immediately notice Hubert, with dark magic whirling in his hand, and Edelgard, training axe at the ready.

Damnation. We left ourselves open to those two.

“Claude,” I whisper to the boy “If I deal with Edelgard, can you take care of Hubert?”

“You serious, Teach? Me against Her Highness’ big mean bodyguard?” he chuckles “Of course I can.”

“Good,” I turn to the other remaining Golden Deer student, “Marianne, you stay in the rear for now. If Claude is in trouble, help him however you can. Understood?” I had hoped to have to rely only on Lysithea for magical combat, but now that she’s been defeated I have no choice.

“Y-yes, Professor,” the bluenette hesitantly replies. Something will have to be done about her utter lack of confidence.

But not now.

With my instructions given, I start moving closer to the two Eagles. Hubert prepares to launch a Miasma at me, but Edelgard raises a hand to stop him. She then points in Claude and Marianne’s direction and says something I can’t quite understand. 

Whatever it is, Hubert doesn’t look pleased by it, but instead of attacking me, he aims his Miasma at something behind me. Claude or Marianne most likely. Meanwhile, his liege also starts closing the distance between me and her.

“There can be no victory unless I defeat you,” she declares once we’re within earshot of each other, “So…”

Bad mistake monologuing during a battle.

Before she can finish, I accelerate my steps towards her. Giving her as little notice as possible, I swing my sword towards her.

Of course, knowing what kind of reflexes she possesses from the battle with the bandits, I know she can still parry it without too much trouble. Which she does, although with gritted teeth.

Which works fine for what I want to tell her.

“Your lesson for today, Edelgard,” a spark of genuine interest comes to her calculating eyes, “Never expect your opponent to let you finish what you’re saying. Most you will fight during your time here will not grant you that commodity.”

The two of us break apart after my comment, putting some space between us.

“Understood, Professor,” Edelgard replies before raising her axe in a challenging pose, “Shall we continue?”

I respond in kind with my sword, “Yes.”

* * *

[Eugenio]

Well, I’m not sure what kind of fighter I was expecting Byleth to be, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t one this vicious.

Using fire and smoke to make the Lions students come out, kicking Dedue’s leg from under him, bodylifting Ashe and throwing him towards Mercedes… for the son of a knight, he sure doesn’t take half-measures when it comes to defeating those who stand in his way.

Of course, since he lost Lorenz right off the bat he was the only one that stood between his not-so-sturdy students and the colossus that is Dedue, so I guess it makes sense he’d want to get rid of Dedue as soon as possible.

Another thing I noticed during the fight between the Deers and the Lions is that every time the brat cast a spell, I felt that same sensation I did two days ago, only weaker. Same thing when Hubert knocked her down. And yet, when Dorothea or Hanneman cast a spell, nothing at all.

If this is supposed to be a sign I have a strong affinity for Dark Magic, those who decide such things can go fuck themselves. I’m not touching magic that can give me cancer with anything short of a shotgun.

While those thoughts swirl into my mind, I notice that Byleth and the Deers have engaged Edelgard and Hubert, with the latter targeting Claude and Marianne and the former exchanging blows with the mannequin himself.

Strangely enough, Byleth doesn’t seem to be fighting her as viciously as he did with the Lions. I hope he isn’t going easy on her because he’s as horny for her as she is for him. It will bring heartbreak a few months from now.

As that battle unfolds, I turn to the other one. Last I checked, Ferdinand was getting the shit beaten out of him by Dimitri, with Dorothea trying to help him from a distance, only for all her spells to be thwarted by one of Hanneman’s.

And now...now Ferdinand is nowhere to be seen while Dorothea is falling back, the Lions’ homeroom teacher and House leader hot on her tail. Guess Mister ‘nobles this, nobles that’ got warped while I wasn’t looking.

“Hmm,” I hear Alois mutter. He hasn’t turned his gaze away from the Golden Deer ever since the start of the mock battle and now that I’m getting a good look at him, he seems...perplexed?

“Is someting wrong, Alois?”

My question seems to startle him, “Uh? Ah, no no, it’s just,” he turns back to the ongoing duel between Eagles and Deers, “I was watching the way Byleth fights.”

Ah, I think I can guess what the issue is.

“You tink he’s being too brutal wit de students?”

“What? No!” he exclaims, “...okay, maybe a little. But what I’m concerned about is how he just...throws himself into the middle of battle. Like he has little concern for his well-being.”

He does? I haven’t actually noticed. Sure, he’s been doing head-first charges ever since this began, but with the only other physical attacker out of the equation, it doesn’t seem like he has much of a choice.

Then again, in the game Byleth did use himself as a meat shield for Edelgard when he unlocked Divine Pulse. And he does some more reckless charges during the game’s plot, which lead to stuff like Solon sealing him away and Thales blasting him off a cliff.

Perhaps Alois is onto something…

My thoughts are interrupted when I notice Byleth finally knocking Edelgard down, the girl being warped right after.

Hubert is, in true Hubert fashion, taken aback by that result. Something that Claude takes advantage of by hitting him at that very moment. And then Dracula lite is also warped away.

Byleth rejoins Claude and Marianne after that, with the bluehead using healing magic on both boys. The rookie teacher then exchanges a few more words with his students and then they all head in the direction of the Eagles’ camp, where Manuela and Dorothea are basically making a final stand against Dimitri and Hanneman.

Well, let’s see if Byleth decides to wait for both sides to tire each other out or pull another Leeroy Jenkins.

* * *

[Byleth]

Despite the loss of Lysithea, we managed to recover our momentum rather handily. As I suspected, Hubert’s devotion for Edelgard could be exploited if harm of any sort came to her, in the form of a few seconds of distraction. All Claude needed to finish him off.

As for Edelgard herself, she’s much more potent than I had anticipated the last time I saw her fight. Fast, strong and, more importantly, analytical. Even in the way she fought, I could tell every move was calculated and meant to incapacitate me as swiftly as possible. Not unlike me.

The only advantage I had over her was experience. But if she realizes her full potential, I can see her easily becoming my match.

But that is neither here nor there.

Now that we’ve dealt with both of the groups coming our way, we must proceed to either the Eagles’ camp or the Lions’. And between what I’ve seen of Dimitri’s skills and the inhuman strength his family is said to have, I suspect he and Hanneman have managed to overpower the other Eagles by now.

Which is why we’re now heading towards their camp.

As we approach, though, I hear the rumbling of thunders not far ahead of us. Since there aren’t clouds in the sky that could possibly be announcing a storm, I have to assume, there’s still some fighting going on.

“Hold,” I tell Claude and Marianne, “Can you hear it?”

Both stop in their tracks, their gazes drifting into the distance as they listen for the nearby sounds.

“Wow,” Claude comments, no doubt hearing what I did, “Sounds like the Black Eagles aren’t going down without a fight.”

“Precisely,” I comment, “A fight we’ll wait to die out. When either side has triumphed over the other, we attack.”

“Sneaky, Teach. I like it.”

I nod at that, “Marianne, anything to add?”

“Uh…” the girl hesitates, “No, I...I think that sounds good.”

Yet again she responds too meekly. I suppose the fact she doesn’t object too much is good right now, but the lack of a fighting spirit in her will only be trouble out there.

I point towards the bushes ahead of us, “Hide in there. And keep an arrow and a spell ready. When I say a name, fire both at that person,” that way we should be able to take down one more right away and face less resistance. Even better, if only one is left standing at the end, we should have victory there and then.

“Right-o, Teach,”

The two students follow my lead into the bushes. With them being new to this, I would expect them to make more noise than preferable, even though the sounds of battle should cover that.

And while that is true for Marianne, Claude hides much more quietly than I was expecting. Either he’s a very lucky novice, or he’s not a novice at all. And in my experience, the option that doesn’t involve luck is the more likely one. Unexpected, even with someone of Almyran heritage.

Once we’re in position, I finally get a look at what is going on. It seems that Dimitri and Hanneman have managed to corner Dorothea and Manuela, who are doing their best to keep the two at a distance. No sign of Ferdinand whatsoever. Since he wasn’t with Edelgard, I can only assume he’s already been defeated.

And between Hanneman countering the two former performers’ spells with his own, and the unrelenting way Dimitri pushes on, it isn’t long before the prince of Faerghus closes the distance and knocks them both down with the blunt end of his lance, leading to both being warped away.

“We did it, Professor,” Dimitri pants in the wake of victory.

“Hold your enthusiasm,” Hanneman replies, “The others haven’t rejoined us ye-”

“Hanneman,” I whisper to my students.

Immediately, an arrow is loosened in the direction of the elderly mage, quickly followed by a sphere of azure light.

First, the arrow hits Hanneman’s foot, and then, while he’s unbalanced by his compromised appendage, Marianne’s Blizzard hits him right in the chest, a light layer of ice covering his clothes.

As soon as he touches the ground after a rather degrading fall, he’s warped away, leaving a confused and alone Dimitri against the three of us.

“What…?” he asks, seeing us come out of hiding, “Where are Dedue and the others?”

“They’ve been defeated,” I answer.

At that answer, Dimitri’s face hardens and he retakes a combat stance, “You’re a tough opponent, but I refuse to yield.”

Standing strong even when severely outmatched. Commendable sentiment, but a foolish way to go about it in these circumstances.

No matter. It’s time to finish this battle.

If Dimitri was able to keep dodging both Manuela and Dorothea’s spells, he’ll undoubtedly be able to do the same with everything Marianne and Claude can throw at him. If I want to rely on the two of them, I’ll have to first stun him somehow. Easier said than done considering his family’s alleged strength leaves me very few options that don’t involve permanent damages.

However, with the kind of mindless abandon he seems to prefer fighting with, there is one way that could do just fine. It’s risky, but it’s our best option.

“Marianne,” I whisper to the bluenette, “When I give the signal, aim for his feet. Understood?”

“I...y-yes, Professor,” she hesitantly replies. I suppose that will have to do. If I explain what I intend to do, we risk Dimitri overhearing.

I then turn to my other student, “Claude…”

“I get it, Teach,” he reassures me, “Wait for the signal, etcetera, etcetera. Got it.”

Good. Then I can proceed.

“Stand back for now,” I tell the two as I proceed towards Dimitri.

“Do not fool yourself into believing I will hold back,” the prince warns as I get closer.

I’m counting on that. Especially with how tightly he’s holding his lance.

Meanwhile, I put away the training sword I was holding. I’m not going to need it for this.

Once I’m within striking distance, Dimitri attacks. Just as expected.

I swipe below his lunge, the blade harmlessly flying over my head, while I get closer to Dimitri. Close enough to punch his ribcage.

I can hear a noticeable crack from the prince’s sternum as the air leaves his lungs and the surprise leads to him snapping his lance. The best result I could have asked for.

“Now,” I command as I proceed to move away from Dimitri.

No sooner do I do that, another Blizzard lands in between Dimitri’s feet and encases them in ice, blocking the Blue Lions leader where he stands.

Dimitri tries to break free from the ice, but one of Claude’s arrows hits him right in the gut, forcing him to double over.

While he’s in that state, I grab my sword again and then point it at his throat.

“You lost.”

* * *

[Eugenio]

Huh...that was certainly one way to beat Dimitri quickly.

“The winner of this mock battle is the Golden Deer House!” Jeralt announces from his position.

So this went just like in the game. That’s good to know. The fact that not all of the Deers made it to the end is a scenario as a player you’d want to avoid, but I guess this is more realistic. And since all of the Deers are present in the cutscene before the final map, I’m sure they’ll all live to see that.

The Lions and the Eagles, though...unless Byleth recruits those who can be recruited (however that works here), they are all going to die. And even if they are recruited, they have no guarantee of making it to the fight with Nemesis. And only Byleth and Claude have a 100% chance of making it out of that fight alive.

Nah, let’s not be so fatalistic. Byleth will have his Divine Pulse through all of this. That will make sure all of his precious students live to see the end of the war. However many they’ll be by the end.

I turn to Alois, whose brow hasn’t unfurrowed since our last exchange, “So dat’s de end of dat. What do you tink?”

It was certainly ballsy of Byleth to take on Dimitri like that, especially when he had the other two backing him up, but he didn’t make reckless charges before that. Heck, he waited for Hanneman to lower his guard before having his students take him down with a pair of cheap shots. That has probably been his smartest move today.

The Knight hmms “I stand by what I said earlier. The way Byleth throws himself is concerning. But the fact he waited for the Black Eagles and the Blue Lions to tire each other out is a show he isn’t reckless.”

Considering how chapter 10 of the game is basically him being lured into an obvious trap like a moron, we could argue about that.

“I have to assume he’s either overconfident of his abilities,” Alois’ voice takes a grim tone as he continues “Or he genuinely doesn’t care what happens to him.”

Considering at this point he doesn’t have enough of a personality to suffer from self-loathing, my money is on the former.

Still, Alois doesn’t know about that. Maybe I should tell him something to reassure him. But what?

“Maybe you should talk with Jeralt about it?” I propose. If there’s anyone that _ can _ put his worries to rest, it’s the man himself.

Alois nods solemnly, “Yeah. I think I will,” his characteristic smile comes back at that moment, “I suppose now that we’re both fathers, it’s gonna be a _ dad _ talk, eh?”

It will never cease to baffle me that this very same goofball can have such a perceptive side to him.

* * *

[???]  
  
“So, At…”

“Code names only on the field,” she cuts me off, eyes never leaving the field.

“Fine, ‘Tigress’,” I sigh, “You know if you want to be accurate, I should be ‘Lioness’ instead of ‘Lion’,”

“The moment you start doing some grunt work, I’ll consider changing it.”

Oho, playing hard now? “Is that what it is? I was under the impression it was your attempt at flirting.”

That gets a laugh out of Lynx, Cheetah and Panther. A laugh that only dies down when Tigress turns to me with one of those cute glares of hers.

“Were you asking for something?” she hisses.

Aww, I knew she liked me.

“Now that the mock battle is over, do we have what we needed?”

Tigress turns back to the field and her voice returns to business-like, “Yes. The Flame Emperor’s skills are still unhoned, but even now her power is undeniable. There is no doubt the Agastya’s plans will begin to unfold as soon as she’s graduated.”

“And what of the Ashen Demon, ma’am?” Lynx asks.

Ah, yes. The Ashen Demon. The mercenary infamous for delivering deaths while maintaining a perfect composure. And the newest professor at the Officers’ Academy.

“His skills _ are _ impressive, but nothing that would justify the Archbishop enlisting his services,” Tigress turns her gaze to the Knight that oversaw the battle, “I can only assume nepotism was the reason for it.”

Ah, yes. ‘Captain Jeralt Eisner’. Our newest candidate for Thales’ potential moles within this monument to the Nabateans’ lies. I still think going out of his way to find and replace the elusive ‘Blade Breaker’ and ‘Ashen Demon’ is too much of an effort with too little reward, but, as Tigress reminded me, I’m not the one in charge.

“No matter,” she continues while looking at the crowd that was watching the mock battle, “Let’s leave before the Knights…”

She trails off after uttering those words. That is strange, she’s not one to leave statements unfinished.

“Are you alright, Tigress?” I ask her.

“Look over there,” she replies, pointing at somewhere within the crowd.

We all turn to the cliff. The ones she’s pointing at are a Knight that seems to match the description of Lieutenant Rangeld and...

It can’t be...

“Lion,” Tigress intervenes, “Is that…?”

“The Outworlder,” I confirm, “His outfit is different, but it is him. Or at least, someone who looks _ exactly _ like him.”

“How can this be?!” Cheetah intervenes “We watched him dissolve!”

“No,” Tigress mutters, a dangerous note entering her voice, “We took him here. To our world.”

“What…” Panther hesitates “What do we do now, ma’am?”

“We were given orders to leave no evidence of our experiments,” Tigress replies, “And we have just found the worst kind of evidence.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus ends the mock battle. Byleth wins, Eugenio meets Jeralt, and some shady characters reveal themselves. Who could they be, I wonder?
> 
> Also, as of today (at least for where I live) Three Houses is officially one year old. What better way to celebrate than with a 3H fic updating, eh?
> 
> On a less cheerfull note, the next chapter could take a while before it's out. I'm currently having internet issues and if I don't resolve them soon, there won't be any update until like very late in August.
> 
> Thanks to LowerBlack and 16th-Beat for betareading! Come join us at the TreeHouse Discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> I'll see you next time!


	12. Chapter 11-Shock

I knock on the door of Hanneman's office.

"Enter," the professor's voice says from inside.

Opening the door, I find Hanneman giving his back to me while he's looking at a canister containing five vials with their bottoms filled with some liquids. One contains a green one, three contain a yellow one and the fifth contains one that is something in between.

Just what kind of crazy-scientist style experiments are you up to now, Hanneman?

"Professor?" I say in an attempt to draw his attention.

The mage jumps in surprise at my question "Uh? Oh, Eugenio! When did you arrive?"

I point behind me at the entrance, "Just before I knocked on de door and you told me to enter?"

Hanneman looks quizzically behind me, "I did? Huh...I must have said it reflexively."

Okay, now I really wanna know just what he was doing that he was so distracted by it.

I point at the canister, "What are dose vials for?"

At my question, Hanneman turns back to them with an uncomfortable look, "It's related to something I wanted to talk with you about."

I wince at that. It is?

"But first," he turns back to me, "I believe it's best if we focus on the main reason why I summoned you in the first place."

Well, at least he didn't say something like 'we'll talk about it another day'.

"It's time we test your spellcasting," he continues to which a fresh wave of excitement comes over me.

Finally, after all these weeks, I'll have my chance to cast a spell.

"Which spell have you chosen to try out?" Hanneman inquires.

"Thunder," I reply.

I am not sure why, but fictional characters with some electricity-based powers have always fascinated me. I'd be a fool to pass up a chance like this.

"I see," he neutrally comments, his face showing no particular reaction to that, "I assume you've gone through the diagrams?"

"Of course," I reassure him.

"Very well," he then points to an angle of his study where I find a mannequin with some glyphs painted on it, "Proceed."

I take a deep breath. Alright, it's showtime.

So, the first passage for any kind of spell is always gathering the magical energy in the surrounding air.

I close my eyes and focus on my surroundings. The energy is not too different from the power in my blood, so finding it is a simple task for me by this point.

Gathering it, however, is trickier. All texts Hanneman had me go through said I had to will it into my body and how well it would obey depended on how strong of an affinity I had for it. But none had a clear definition of what 'willing it' meant.

I have, however, a precedent of making power do what I wanted it to do: the time I conjured my Crest, where it consisted of me imagining it in the palm of my hand.

In a similar fashion, I try to picture in my head the surrounding magic as small translucent globes that enter my body. And doing that, I start getting a feeling of renewed vigor that grows the more I hold to that image. I guess that means it's working.

Once I'm at a point where I feel I can't get any more vigor out of this, I stop the mental image and instead focus on the air passing through my hand.

The core principle for Fire, Wind and Thunder magic is that it consists of pouring the accumulated power into the very air that surrounds us, causing it to react accordingly to how much you poured in it.

Wind is the one that requires the least and only serves to command the air, either condensing it into blades (like Cutting Gale) or using it to cause a small contained tornado or other air-related phenomenon (like Excalibur).

Fire is the one in the middle, where you essentially set the air ablaze and then command the resulting fireballs (with the range that goes from small palm-sized ones like Fire to fuck-huge ones like Meteor).

And finally there's Thunder. The one where you pour the most amount of magic of the three. So much, in fact, that the air reacts to give electricity, which the caster has to then quickly let out.

The books I read didn't mention how that reaction worked, but I can't help but wonder if that amount of magic messes with the electrons of the gasses the air is made of somehow.

In any case, the procedure to cast Thunder from here is basically condensing the generated electricity into a small globe and then releasing it upon the intended target. The more powerful variants, Elthunder and Arcthunder, condense it into two and three globes respectively, but I'll get to them in the future.

This is the part where the diagrams and formulae I had to study for this come into play: I have to calculate the amount of magical energy to obtain the intended effects with a set amount of air, then multiply it until I have enough electricity for the spell proper, then regulate its flow until I unleash it and finally regulate the intensity for when it's time to let it out.

Eventually, I start feeling the static in my hand as the energy becomes what is basically condensed lightning. Yes, it's working! Now, before I release it…

"How much intensity must I put into it?" I ask Hanneman to be sure.

"As much as you can."

Don't have to tell me twice.

With those instructions, I regulate the spell to the maximum intensity I can do. The globe forms right away and, after pointing it in the direction of the mannequin, I let it go.

To my absolute delight, the globe turns into a blue lightning bolt that strikes the mannequin square in the chest, the sound of thunder booming in the study.

Yes! I've done it! I've cast Thunder!

While I'm busy internally cheering, Hanneman goes to the mannequin, which somehow doesn't seem to have suffered any kind of damage from the spell. Some sort of light appears in his hand as he proceeds to pass it all over the mannequin.

"Impressive," he comments, the barest hint of surprise in his tone, "For someone who has just started learning magic, your magical output is very strong."

It is? Oh, heck yeah!

"Tell me," he continues, turning back to me, "Have you been practicing casting Thunder before today?"

Uh...he didn't say I should so I didn't. But perhaps he assumed it went without saying?

"I'm afraid not," I confess, which causes a look of stupor to briefly come to his face.

"_Most_ impressive, then."

Best day of my stay in Fódlan yet.

"I'm glad to hear," I decide to just tell Hanneman, although I can tell by the angles of his mouth turning upwards that my enthusiasm is showing.

"Now," he continues as he goes back to business-like, "While I'm glad with this kind of output, there is one other thing I would like to test. Your durability."

I look at Hanneman quizzically, "My...what?"

"Durability is what is usually called how much a person can channel magic before starting to suffer the aftereffects."

Ah...so he wants to see how many times I can cast Thunder in quick succession?

"Why do we need to test dat?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"Besides the fact even some of the most powerful spell-casters can have a very limited amount of magic go through their bodies," he starts, "While the Crest of Dominic augments all of its bearer's magical capabilities, the most notable one is the augment in durability."

And with me bearing that Crest, of course that's the first thing that would be examined. Alright, that makes sense.

"Very well," I shrug, "What do I do?"

Hanneman steps away from the mannequin before pointing at it, "Keep hitting it until you start feeling fatigued."

With those instructions, I proceed to cast Thunder again. The second time goes as smoothly as the first.

The third, however, I notice something is not quite right with the spell. While I manage to cast it, it's not at the same intensity as the previous two.

At the fourth, not only is the intensity even weaker, but for some reason I also struggle to keep the gathered magical energy under control.

After the fifth casting, not only do both of those things happen again, but I also feel my body starting to shake, something that I'm forced to tell Hanneman.

"In that case, let's stop here," Hanneman says at that, "Hmm...four Thunders with no side effects and the first ones showing after a fifth."

"Is dat a bad result?" I ask, feeling a little lightheaded.

The mage shakes his head, "When dealing with the unknown, like we are doing right now, there are no such things as 'bad results'."

Ever the scientist. Or at least what passes for one in a medieval setting.

"What I was observing is that those are the average results from Crestless people who are dabbling in magic for the first time."

'Average for Crestless'? "So what does dat mean for me?"

Hanneman rubs his chin in thought, "I'm not entirely sure. It could mean the effects of your type of Crest are negligible. Or it could mean that your durability beforehand was lacking."

Considering I come from a world where magic wasn't a thing, I bet it's the latter.

"So, what now?" I then ask the professor.

Hanneman rubs his chin some more before replying "For now, our next step is going to be trying to improve your durability. The best way to do that would be exercising every day and come seeing me at regular intervals."

Uh...there's a slight problem with that.

"During the day I'm busy at de library," I explain to Hanneman, "And besides dat, where would I train witout drawing attention?"

Hanneman's brow furrows in thought at my question, "Usually, the training grounds would be the perfect place to train spellcasting, but they are also very busy during the day," he concedes, "Although, during the evening is another matter."

What?

"Tell me," he continues, "What do you usually do at night?"

"Not much, really," I shrug, "I just go to de dining hall, chat a bit wit a few Knights I know and den go to bed."

The mage nods at that, "In that case, I would advise making the time to train your spellcasting after you're finished with the Knights. At night there should be none around the training grounds."

Wait, the training grounds are accessible at that hour?

"Won't de place be closed by den?" I ask.

Hanneman shakes his head, "Not yet. The night watch is charged with closing it at midnight. You would have until then to train."

Midnight, huh? Exactly when I leave the dining hall depends. Sometimes it's a couple of hours before midnight, others it's barely half an hour before. It generally depends on how much Alois and/or Catherine have to talk.

Guess if I want to have enough training time, I will have to think of excuses to leave early. At least with Catherine and Shamir. The truth should suffice with Alois .

"Alright," I tell Hanneman, "I tink I can do dat."

"Good," Hanneman nods, "Should there be any development besides your magic getting more powerful or you becoming capable of casting more spells, let me know."

Ah...I suppose this is a good moment to bring up my observation from the previous days.

"Actually, Professor, dere is one strange ting I've noticed recently," I tell him.

"Oh?" he arches an eyebrow, "What is it?"

"I was observing de mock battle with Alois," I explain, "Every time one of de students cast a Dark Magic spell, I sensed some sort of etereal tingling," Hanneman's eyes slightly widen at that, "It didn't happen when someone used Black or Fait Magic, dough. Do you know what it could be?"

"Well…" he hesitates, "A 'tingling' is what most mages use to describe what they sense when magic is used near them. However, that is a skill that more experienced mages can develop. But if you were able to sense the use of Dark Magic, even now that your training has barely started…" he trails off.

"It could mean I'm more attuned to Dark dan Black Magic?"

The elderly teacher nods and my good mood immediately sours. Fuck, I was hoping that wasn't the case!

I try to keep my composure, "So...what now?"

"Well," he clears his throat, "In order to determine the effects of your Crest we would have had to observe your affinities for the other branches of Reason Magic anyway. Dark Magic is only going to be the last we deal with. I don't see a reason for that to change."

Ah, great. So I was gonna have to learn cancer magic anyway? Thanks for telling me only now, jackass.

"Now," he then continues as he goes back to his desk and places a hand near the canister from before, "I believe you wanted to know about these."

Oh! I had forgotten about them.

"Yes, Professor," I confirm to the mage.

"Then, please, have a seat," he replies as he goes back to his side of the desk, leaving me the space to sit on the chair on the opposite one.

"So," he then begins once we've both sat down, "They may no longer look like it, but these are blood samples."

"Blood samples?" I ask bewildered "What happened to dem?"

"This is the result of one of those tests I needed your blood for," Hanneman replies, "It's a very old method for identifying the presence or lack of Crests in a person's blood. It's no longer used because other methods that take less time and resources have been developed across the years."

I arch an eyebrow "Like your Analyzer?"

He nods to that, "Exactly."

That's…interesting, I guess. But certain methods being abandoned happens because of good reasons.

"So...why did you run this test if it's no longer up to date?"

"While it is no longer up to date, it had a unique concept behind it," the professor starts, "You see, back then there was a theory that through the right combination of alchemical substances and spells, one could remove Crests from a person's blood. However, the ensuing experiments to test that theory only ever succeeded in changing the color of the blood samples that were used for tests."

"Dat's...interesting," no idea what it has to do with our situation but I admit dedicated scholars would no doubt find it intriguing, "So, uh...how is dat related to _dese_ samples exactly?"

"I'll get to it in a moment," Hanneman reassures, "While their original purpose was not met, the experiments were salvaged as the first ever method to effectively distinguish Crest-bearers from non-bearers, since the formers' blood would turn green and the latters' yellow."

Ah…green and yellow like these ones. So for whatever reason he ran those experiments on these vials.

"So dese," I gesture at the vials, "Belong to a bearer and tree non-Bearers," I then point at the yellowish green (greenish yellow?) one, "And why's dat one dat color?"

At my statements, Hanneman's stance shifts, "That is where things become less clear. As a matter of fact, only one of these samples comes from a non-Bearer."

I turn back to the Crest scholar, my face undoubtedly twisted into confusion, "What?"

"These two," he taps at the green vial and the yellow one next to it, "Were used as reference. The one that turned green is my own," geez, man! "The other belongs to Sir Alois."

"Alois?" I ask surprised.

The mage nods, "Yes, I asked him for a sample before running this test a couple of weeks ago," he arches an eyebrow, "Did he not tell you?"

I shake my head, "No, dis is de first I've heard of it."

Hanneman looks quizzical for a moment before shrugging, "I suppose he must have forgotten to tell you."

Did he now?

"In any case," Hanneman continues, pointing at the second yellow vial of the canister, "This sample is your own blood."

I wince at hearing that. _My_ blood? That can't be. According to what he just said it should be green, not yellow.

"If it really is mine, why did it turn _dat_ color?" I ask Hanneman.

"A good question," he sighs, "At first I thought that the procedure might have served its original intended purpose of removing Crests, either because of yours' weak nature or because you weren't born with it. However, upon scanning it with the Analyzer, it revealed your Crest was still there."

I furrow my brow at the news. So despite my Crest staying present, I still resulted negative to Crests. At least, according to this archaic test.

"How is dis possible?" I ask Hanneman, "If my Crest didn't go away, it should have still turned green," an idea hits me then and there, "Is it because it's only traces and not a full Crest?"

"That is what I had originally concluded as well," he replies before glancing at the final two vials, "However, I have since found two other abnormalities that would suggest otherwise."

'Other abnormalities'? That can't be. Every other character in the game had the regular Major and Minor variants of the Crests. Why would anything result out of order for them?

"What sort of abnormalities?" I ask.

"This," Hanneman gestures at the last yellow vial, "Is Professor Byleth's blood."

My face falls at hearing that. Byleth's blood? Impossible. He had a _Major_ Crest. And on top of it, it was the Crest of friggin Flames. How the heck did he test negative?

"This other one," he points at the oddly colored one, "Belongs to a student - whose identity they've requested to keep hidden - who besides the Minor variant of their family's Crest, also possesses the Major Crest of Gloucester."

I blink at hearing that, "So what you're saying..." I ask in order to make sure I heard right "Is dat dis student has _two_ Crests? Not just one?"

He nods, "Precisely."

The Major Crest of Gloucester...plus a minor one…

The brat!

"I tried to question them about how that was possible," Hanneman continues, "But their response was…" he hesitates "Less than ideal. They became all defensive and I had to desist before they had a panic attack."

That's the brat, alright. She always got evasive in her supports when the subject of her having two Crests came up.

"Sounds like dere's a rader grim story dere," is all I can comment. I know from the game how she got that second Crest, but I can't justify knowing it.

"Indeed," Hanneman concurs, "Which also brings me to the topic of Professor Byleth."

I stand to attention as Hanneman turns back to the vial with the animated doll's blood, "This sample was one he had originally provided shortly after I first tested him for Crests. I had preserved it in hopes of identifying what effects his potentially unknown Crest had, but after the strange effects conjuring it had on him, I had to use it for this."

"Strange effects?" I ask confused, "What strange effects?"

In the game, Byleth is never shown conjuring his Crest but even with the circumstances with which he got it, shouldn't he be able to conjure it normally?

Hanneman hesitates before continuing, "As I said I would, I summoned him to my office to see what Crest he'd conjure shortly after the mock battle. He does have a Major Crest of Flames," somehow he says that particular detail without the excitement you'd expect from him, "However…"

* * *

_I stare in disbelief at what is in front of me. Even after this possibility came up with Eugenio, I didn't think it would be true. The fabled Crest of Flames, right in front of me! And with a bearer carrying the Major variant!_

_This is incredible! The Crest of the King of Liberation, bearing the entirety of the Goddess' power, returned to our world! This will change…_

_The conjured Crest starts flickering all of a sudden. At the same time, I hear Professor Byleth, who has yet to reopen his eyes, whimper. Strangest of all, instead of the neutral expression he usually shows, his brow is furrowed, if ever so slightly._

"_Are you alright, Professor?"_

_No response comes from him. Instead, to my shock, my fellow teacher collapses forward, with me barely preventing him from hitting the ground._

"_Professor!"_

_I shake him, which thankfully seems to reawake him immediately._

_However, what he says next only takes me aback even more._

"_Professor Hanneman...who is Zahras?"_

* * *

"Who is who?" I ask bewildered.

In the game, Zahras is the name of that place Solon banishes Byleth to. It's never elaborated upon and never brought up again.

And now Byleth is asking about someone with the same name?

Hanneman shakes his head, "I do not know either. All the professor could tell me was that for some reason conjuring his Crest gave him a vision of this man."

A vision? "Do Major Crests do dat?"

Hanneman shakes his head again, "As far as is recorded, this is the first time something like this has ever happened."

Oh, boy. Something tells me this is something like the vision he has at the very beginning of the game.

"So...what exactly happened in dis vision?"

"Professor Byleth said it was at the edges of a city he had never seen before. At first, it was a man wearing a black armor with golden decorations and a red cape conversing with whoever he was seeing this vision as."

That one has got to be Sothis. But the description of the other guy's outfit...isn't that Thales' attire in the game?

"The only thing he understood of their conversation was that this man was called 'Zahras'. And when their conversation ended, Zahras literally ripped his heart out and summoned 'tendrils of darkness', as Professor Byleth called them, that engulfed both."

That is...very much what happens in the game. The only difference is whose heart Solon rips out.

So this is a memory from Sothis' past. No doubt what triggered the war between her and the Agarthans of the time.

But this vision...it never happened in the game. Why did Byleth have it? Is it something that was glossed over?

Or perhaps...perhaps it was triggered exactly by Hanneman requesting him to conjure the Crest. Which would not have happened if I hadn't…

"Eugenio?"

Hanneman's verbal prod stirs me back to reality, "Sorry, Professor. Dis is...more dan I was prepared for."

"I can imagine," he comments sympathetically.

"In any case," he then continues, "There is no question that calling upon the power of his Crest, caused Professor Byleth to have this vision. It is possible it's a peculiarity of the Crest of Flames, but I wanted to be absolutely sure first. And when I had this result," he indicates the vial with Byleth's blood, "I asked myself this: 'Was it a vision or a traumatic memory his subconscious hid away?'"

That's...quite a leap of logic to make. Not to mention he's way off the mark. What brought that on?

"What are you implying, Professor?" I ask, eyebrow arched.

"Three people," he starts, "All bearing unusual Crests. All giving results they shouldn't to a test. One has experienced an unnatural magical phenomenon. One is trying to hide undoubtedly unpleasant memories related to their second Crest. One's first attempt at tapping into the power of his Crest sees things he can't explain."

Uh…

"Are you saying dere could be a connection among de tree of us?" I hesitantly ask.

"Yes," uh-oh, "I believe that like you, Professor Byleth was not born with his Crest. Nor was that student born with that Crest of Gloucester. And the man called Zahras must be related somehow."

Huh...he really isn't. It's his descendants that...but that doesn't apply for Byleth...and I'm not...I mean I could…

"What makes you say dat?" I decide to just ask.

"The man, as Professor Byleth saw him, was wearing the national colors of the Adrestian Empire."

That means jackshit. He could have just liked the colors.

"In addition, the student's family has had in recent years a feud with high-ranking members of the Empire's nobility. A feud that they lost."

Trying to aid a neighbouring noble House rebel against the Emperor is a bit more than just 'a feud' but you do you.

"I admit it isn't much to go on, but at least it's a lead on who is responsible for the Crests of all three of you."

Well...shit. He's wrong about Byleth getting his Crest from the same people as the brat, but his reasoning for someone from the Empire being involved is not wrong considering who Thales is masquerading as. And the Slitherers _were_ the only suspects I could think of when he told me of my Crest.

But that brings back the question of what the heck is going on with Solon. He had me under watch basically from day one. If he and his buddies are the ones behind this, what are they waiting for?

Although perhaps it's best if I stow those questions for later. Right now, there's something far more pressing I need to know.

"What are you planning to do wit dis information, Professor?"

Hanneman takes a deep breath, "Nothing yet."

Nothing? He gives me this update on my Crest, tells me he suspects someone in the Empire could be involved and he wants to do nothing?

My confusion must show since the mage then elaborates, "I do intend to investigate with what contacts I still have in the Empire from my days as a lord of House Essar. But first, I need to question Professor Byleth and the student further. If there is more information they can provide, I must know before starting to investigate."

Ah, that makes more sense. More information could open the possibilities for other leads or at least more places to start looking.

Not that he's going to find much, though. All the brat knew in the game that he hasn't figured out already is that she's dying. And Byleth knows even less, considering he was a newborn when he got that Crest.

Actually...if Byleth proves useless in terms of information, is there a chance Hanneman could turn to Jeralt? And if so, would Greil 2.0 share his suspicions towards Rhea?

And - most importantly - if he does, how much have I fucked up Three Houses' plot by simply being here?

"And besides," Hanneman continues while I'm having those thoughts, "There is also another student that I suspect could be a victim of these people."

I almost jump from the chair at his statement, "Anoder student?"

Hanneman nods, "Yes. The one I've told you about presents a physical abnormality. One that is present in this other one as well. It could be a coincidence, but…"

I cut him off with a raised hand. If the abnormality he's talking about is the white hair, this is my chance to avoid naming these two students when he hasn't.

"Are dese two students you're talking about Lysitea von Ordelia and Princess Edelgard von Hresvelg?" I ask in the best inquisitive voice I can make.

Hanneman's jaw literally drops, "How did you…?"

I point to my head, "White hair," I explain, "_Dat_ is a physical abnormality in teenagers. And I know House Ordelia was involved in a rebellion against de Emperor at one point."

Hanneman responds with a defeated sigh, "I see you've done some research into Fódlan's recent major political events."

Yeah, let's go with that.

Hanneman recomposes himself before continuing, "Yes. Miss Lysithea, besides her family's Minor Crest of Charon, proved to have that Major Crest of Gloucester I mentioned. And her white hair, like the second Crest she has, is not a normal occurrence. And thus, while it's admittedly a stretch of logic, Princess Edelgard's own white hair could be a sign she also has a second Crest."

Which she _does_ have. But it's a secret she's guarding fiercely. To the point she won't let just anybody find out.

"So your intentions for now are to find out wheder Edelgard is another bearer of an artificial Crest or not?" I ask just to be sure I'm understanding Hanneman's next intended moves.

The professor nods, "Yes. I have already tried to request a blood sample from her, but she's been...less than cooperative," yeah, I can imagine "And her being as secluded as Miss Lysithea on this matter only seems to confirm my suspicions. But before we go any further, it's imperative I know for sure. If these people could get to the Imperial princess, one of the lords behind the Insurrection of the Seven could be involved."

"...one of _dem_?" I ask bewildered. Of course, I know the one involved is Lord Arundel, aka Mister Blank Eyes, but I'm still amazed he discerned that much.

"Yes," he replies in a somber tone, "Which is all the more reason everything Miss Lysithea and Professor Byleth can tell us is required. One wrong move, and we could lose everything."

I gulp at that particular prospect.

"My apologies for these grim news," Hanneman then continues, "But I believe you deserved to know."

"..tank you," is all I can tell him, "I...appreciate you sharing dese news."

"You are most welcome."

Not much else happens after that. Hanneman gives me some more recommendations on how to proceed with my training in spellcasting, we exchange some pleasantries and then I leave his office to return to the library.

But on my way there, I have to stop in my steps for a moment. The moment where the true implications of what happened really hit me.

God-fucking-dammit! This wasn't how it was supposed to go! It was just meant to be Hanneman investigating this stupid Crest, not him catching a scent of all the major intrigues surrounding the plot of Three Houses!

What the hell am I supposed to do now? I wanted answers on what the fuck happened to me, but not at the cost of derailing the plot of the game!

I _know_ there's a silver lining for all of Fódlan if I let events proceed as they do in the game, but if Hanneman sniffs out the Slitherers (or at least those associated with them) ahead of time, how much are those events going to be altered?

I could try to undermine his efforts from here on out somehow, but that would beat my original purpose of returning home.

So what the fucking hell am I going to do?!

The answer is as obvious as it is unnerving: wait. Wait to see how this all develops and pray I can find a way to keep things on track.

* * *

[Aelfric]

I have always enjoyed spring evenings. They last longer than the summer ones and are not as chilling as those during winter and autumn. Perfect to gaze at the stars. Like Sitri and I used to do back then.

Unfortunately, stargazing is not why I'm out here, at the gates of the Monastery tonight. I'm here to meet someone.

As she warned me, it's very late when she does arrive, wrapped in her old cloak from her days as a thief. A necessary disguise to hide her identity from potential onlookers.

But at least she does lower her hood once she's within arm's reach.

"Hey there, Aelfric," Rebecca cheerfully greets me, "Life as a Cardinal still treating you the same?"

"Indeed," I warmly reply, "What about you?"

She shrugs, "Same old. The new year brought new faces and I still have my post at the dining hall," her face takes a more serious expression after that, "Although I think you should know: Jeralt's returned."

That I'd already heard. Alois found him working as a mercenary in a village on the border between the Empire and the Kingdom.

Alongside his son Byleth.

"I have heard some things on my way back. Is it true Lady Rhea reinstated him as the captain of the Knights?"

She nods at that, "Yup. Friedrich couldn't wait to retire after that throat injury he got. That Jeralt was still in fighting shape and available meant he could do that a few months earlier than expected."

It will never cease to amaze me how slowly Jeralt seems to age.

"I have also heard he was found with his son," I continue, "A son named 'Byleth'. Like the one he lost."

I know the two are one and the same, but no one else, aside from Jeralt himself, is supposed to. If he managed to make up a lie for that, it's best I learn what that lie is as soon as possible.

Rebecca purses her lips before continuing, "Yeah, apparently somewhere along the line, he decided to marry again. And judging by how old this new son is, it must have been not long after Lady Sitri's death."

So he did manage to keep hidden that he and I staged Byleth's death all those years ago. That is a relief. This way Rhea won't enact whatever plans she had for him.

"And can you believe Lady Rhea made him a professor at the Officers' Academy?"

I have to blink at that, "What? That is also true?"

"Oh yeah. The circumstance in which Alois found the two was rescuing three students that had been abandoned by Professor Oliver, who got fired for that. I'm sure you can connect the dots."

That is troubling. If she's giving Byleth this treatment of favor it must mean she doesn't know but she does _suspect_.

"Anyway," Rebecca goes back to her normally chirpy self, "We're not here for gossip, are we?" she pulls a rolled up parchment from her belt and offers it to me, "Here you go. A list of some of my old contacts from my days with the Gloucester."

Excellent. Just what I needed for my plan to begin.

I make to grab that parchment but, to my surprise, Rebecca doesn't let it go.

I turn to face her again, only to find a grave expression on her face.

"Please, be careful with these people," she implores, "I know you have Abyss' best interests at heart, but they only care about profit. Being indebted to them could be more trouble than it's worth."

It pains me to no end that I have to lie to her. But it is for the greater good.

"Do not worry," I reassure her with a smile, "I have faced far more dangerous situations than a few greedy criminals. If whatever deal they offer becomes too dangerous, I'll be sure to cut ties before they become a threat."

Rebecca doesn't look reassured in the least by my words, but she does let the parchment go.

"Thank you," I tell her.

Her eyes close as her face shifts to a wide smile, "Don't mention it."

We go our separate ways shortly after that. The longer we stay out in the open, the more likely the chances of one of the guards spotting us and Rhea finding out what I plant to do. Even if I were to give her the story I gave Rebecca of me trying to secure food and supplies from the black market for Abyss, she'd shut down my operation before it even begins. And there's no guarantee I'd be able to start over.

It is only when I am on the edges of the town that I can afford a moment of respite. A moment I take to look at the parchment I'm holding.

I have little doubt that I will come to hate myself in the years to come for what I'm going to do. Leading mercenaries to Abyss, threatening innocents, sacrificing four youths…

But this is for the greater good. The mercenaries will serve as a motivation for the Ashen Wolves to search for the Chalice and then Yuri will make sure all four of them are present for the Rite. Their blood, after all, is what will return Sitri to life.

Hang in there, Jeralt. Once she's back, she will help us expose Rhea's crimes.

"_Cardinal Aelfric,_" a distorted voice I don't recognize hisses.

I turn in the direction where that voice came from, but all I see is the shadow cast by one of the buildings.

At first I'm tempted to dismiss that voice as my imagination and walk away, but then I notice something move within that shadow. Something that I can't identify at first.

But then, out of the corner of the shadow, comes an armored foot. An armored foot quickly followed by the woman it belongs to.

The first thing I notice is the black hooded cloak that covers her, not unlike Rebecca's. But unlike her, what she's wearing beneath is a set of black lacquered armor.

The next thing I notice is the sword strapped to her hip. I'm not an expert on swords, but it looks like a killing edge with some sort of green gem in its hilt. Probably a custom-made weapon.

The hood hides her face almost entirely, but from what little it doesn't hide, I think she's also wearing some sort of white mask.

I swallow at the sight of the woman. Her attire seems to suggest an assassin of sorts, but if she were here to kill me she would not have announced herself like this. However, the fact I'm a Cardinal should be something only high-ranking members of the Church know. Either this woman is working for someone from the Church, or I'm dealing with something worse than an assassin.

"Who...are you?" I hesitantly ask.

"_My name does not matter,_" she neutrally replies, "_But if you need one,_" she lowers her hood, revealing a white mask shaped like the face of some kind of feline, with black lines forming a pattern on it, and a bundle of steel-colored hair kept in a tail. With that mask, the only piece of skin I can see is her neck, which is…unnaturally pale. Like it hasn't seen the light of day in years, "_You may call me Tigress._"

Neither her stance nor her tone seem meant to be threatening. That should be a good sign, but it's best if I keep my guard up all the same.

"Then tell me, 'Tigress'," I state, "How do you know I'm a Cardinal and what do you want from me?"

Tigress crosses her arms, "_We have watched you for some time. Ever since you started gathering your little army of mercenaries from the Empire and the Kingdom._"

What? How can that be? I was meticulous about leaving no trace.

"_And judging by your conversation with Ulda Gloucester, we suspect some from the Alliance will soon join._"

Ulda Glou...wait, she saw _that_? How does she even know that name?

Wait...what else did she just say?

"We?" I ask, hoping to have misheard.

Tigress nods, "_We._"

So...there's a master behind this woman. And I can take a guess who that master is.

"So the Archbishop has been keeping an eye on me," I point out, "But if you are not here to kill me, what do you want?"

Her brief dry chuckle is not the answer I was expecting, "_You are misunderstanding, old man. We are not with the Archbishop. In fact, she's our enemy._"

That statement takes me aback, "Her enemy? What is that supposed to mean?"

"_You are not the only one she has wronged during her reign over the Church of Seiros,_" is the cryptic answer she gives to my question, "_As such, I believe it is in our best interest to join forces._"

Join forces? "What are you saying?"

"_It's simple. We can help you accomplish whatever it is you are doing. Are you interested?_"

...I can admittedly see the benefits of working alongside whoever these people are. The amount of information they gathered speaks for itself. And if they really are enemies of Rhea's, it's undoubtful they would agree to my plan.

But if there is one thing I've learned, it's that such generous offers don't come for free.

"What do you want from me in return?"

I can't see what face she makes at my question with that mask of hers on. But the way she shifts at it seems to imply that was the question she was waiting for.

"_There is a person within the Monastery,_" she replies, "_A worker hired a couple of moons ago. Provide us information about him and we will help you._"

They want information about one of the Monastery's workers? That's an odd request, "Who is this worker? And what do you want from him?"

"_That is no concern of yours,_" is all the answer she gives, "_All you need to know is that we need everything you can learn about him. And I mean_ everything."

I do not like the sound of that. If they want to know about one of the workers so badly, they must have something in mind for him. Something that is unlikely to be any good.

Still, is the life of one worker worth more than such a good chance at deposing a corrupt Archbishop who holds sway over all of Fódlan?

"I will help you," I decide to tell Tigress, "But which worker do you want to know about?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was chapter 11, where Eugenio's search for answers comes to a surprising twist and we meet Aelfric, whose motivations are slightly tweaked from the ones he has in the game. Hope no one is bothered by that.
> 
> Once more thanks to LowerBlack and 16th-Beat for betareading this! Also thanks to Tyrux for letting me reference his one-shot 'Fell Star' (go read it, it's really good!)
> 
> See you guys next time!


	13. Chapter 12-An Unfortunate Deal

For the fifth time this night, the enchanted mannequin is struck by lightning.

After casting that spell, I examine my fingers as I flex them. Still a slight loss of power and control over the conjured electricity, but no sense of fatigue overtaking me this time around. That's definitely an improvement.

Ever since that day, I've snuck into the training grounds every night to improve my spell casting, just as Hanneman told me to. The first night I was lucky to meet only Alois at the dining hall, so I only had to explain the situation for him to let me go.

His two fellow Knights, however, are another matter.

Had this happened while I was still new around here, I have little doubt Catherine would have gotten suspicious of me. But now? Now apparently what it takes to appease her is a few words from Alois backing up my excuses. Guess I've built enough good will for her not to think I'm taking advantage of his good nature.

Shamir, however, is not so easily reassured. Every time I have to leave early, she's started to give me an inquisitive glare. That plus the fact she's not stupid makes me worried that she'll figure out the truth eventually, but the fact that she joined the Knights only for the paycheck and that I'm not doing anything that threatens the Monastery should dissuade her from reporting me to Rhea. Hopefully.

I brush those thoughts aside for the moment. Midnight will come soon and I had better not be found here by then.

I gather the magic in my body once more and, for the first time since these escapades of mine began, proceed to cast a sixth Thunder in immediate succession to the previous five.

After it hits the mannequin, I feel my body shaking with fatigue, like it did all previous nights after the fifth.

So basically now I can cast Thunder one more time than when I started. It's not much of an improvement, but I guess it's better than no improvement at all.

"That was wonderful!" the sweet-sounding voice of a kid says from behind me. The voice of a 'kid' I had hoped not to cross paths with.

I slowly turn around and, just as I feared, I am met by the sight of the third reptilian inhabitant of this place: Flayn.

"Oh, apologies," she squeaks when our gazes meet, "Did I startle you?"

Ooookay...try to play it cool here. Just act naturally and try to avoid giving your name so she doesn't accidentally expose you to her brother/father.

"It's no trouble, Miss…?" I reply as I fully turn to her, purposely trailing off at her name.

"Oh, sorry," she clears her throat, "I'm Flayn. Seteth's little sister."

I nod to that, "Pleased to meet you, Miss Flayn. And apologies for being here. I'll leave right away," I say as I make to leave the place. Better leave her alone before the ever overprotective Seteth finds us and decides to turn my guts inside out.

"No, no, please stay," the young-looking girl intervenes, "I didn't mean to interrupt. I was just curious what the noises I heard were."

Ah, shit. I had not planned for bystanders hearing what I was doing. Well, at least she's the only one here tonight. I'll try to think of something to mask the noise next time.

"Don't worry, you're not interrupting," I reassure her, "I was pretty much finished."

"Oh, already?" she gasps, "But I thought you had just begun. I counted only six thunders."

Either she's assuming I'm a more experienced mage than I actually am or she really just thinks only six is little. Knowing what she was like in the game, my money is on the former.

"Unfortunately I'm a beginner to dis," I explain to her "I can only do magic so long before I can no longer take it."

"Oh!" she exclaims, "So you're still learning," she has a small giggle at that, "That's wonderful. It's always good to expand your horizons."

Yeah, I suppose a millennia old being would know all about that.

"Glad to hear you approve," I tell the excitable girl, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to…"

"Ah, there you are, Flayn."

We both turn in the direction of the new voice and find none other than Seteth. Crap.

"I was wondering where you'd…" the Snape wanna-be cuts himself off mid-sentence as soon as he lays eyes on me.

"Oh, brother!" the oblivious Flayn replies, "Sorry, I heard Mister…" she turns back to me, "Sorry, I didn't ask your name before."

"Eugenio."

She nods, "Thank you," she then turns back to her 'brother', "I head Mister Eugenio here practicing Thunder Magic and I got curious."

FLAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYN!

After hearing that, Seteth narrows his eyes at me "Is that so?"

Crap times two.

"Well..." I hesitate, "I'm... not going to deny it," I'd be an idiot to, "But I…"

"Save it," the greenhead interrupts me, his face going back to a neutral expression and his arms crossing as he just stares at me. As Flayn's confused gaze keeps switching between me and him, I can't help but wonder: just in how much trouble am I now?

"I had intended to do this tomorrow, but I suppose now is as good a time as any," he continues, "Come to my office tomorrow morning. I have something to discuss with you."

'Something to discuss with me'? That can't be good, especially after this "What about?"

For one brief moment, Seteth glances at his 'little sister' before his focus goes back to me, "I'll tell you tomorrow. But for now, go back to your room. This place will be closed soon."

I gulp at his reply, nod and then start to walk off.

Great. Now what am I going to do? If this was only about me practicing Thunder Magic when I previously said I was no mage, I could think of something to say. But the fact he apparently wanted to see me even before this means that won't be all.

But what else would he want to talk about? If it's about me using his name for the situation with Leonie, that was over a month ago. And me working for Hanneman started even before that, so that's also a no.

Well, let's try not to jump to conclusions too soon. Maybe he just wanted to know if there are updates on my research into how to return home and he was just sour at the discovery of me doing magic.

At least, that's what I want to believe. Even if a part of my brain is screaming that that's a load of bullshit.

* * *

"Enter," Seteth's stern voice says as I knock on his door.

As I enter, I notice him compiling documents at his desk, stopping only when he notices it's me.

"You took your time," is the first thing he says to me.

"Would have been here sooner," I reply, "But first I had to explain de situation to Tomas."

"I see," is all the answer he gives, his face betraying no particular emotion, before gesturing to the chair on the other side of his desk, "Sit."

I do as he says and, when he doesn't add anything, I start, "So, about last night…"

He cuts me off with a raised hand, "Later. First, I would like to ask about a few things regarding you that happened during these three months."

I furrow my brow at that, "What kind of 'tings'?"

He crosses his arms, "Reports of events surrounding you. The oldest I had deemed not worth looking into, but the more recent ones were reason enough to change my mind."

That's...ominous. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised he kept an eye on me all this time, but I don't exactly know what I did (before being caught doing magic, that is) that would warrant going from 'not worth looking into' to 'we need to talk'.

"First off, your fight with Catherine," huh? "Why did you challenge a Knight of Seiros to a fight?"

"Who told you about dat?" I ask bewildered.

"Answer the question."

Great. An old fashioned interrogation.

Well, better not antagonize the second-in-command by being difficult, I suppose.

"I didn't challenge her," I explain to him, "We had a talk at de dining hall where I told her I practiced a form of hand-to-hand combat and she said she wanted to see my skills firsthand."

The stern reptile arches an eyebrow at that, "Hand-to-hand combat? Why am I hearing about this only now?"

"Because it was noting wort mentioning," I explain dismissively, "If you were to talk wit her about it, she'd tell you just how poor my skills actually are," hopefully being open about it will make it easier for him to believe me.

His face shifts back to his usual neutral expression, "I did hear something like that, yes," he concedes. Good.

"I also heard you brought me up in front of a group of students," he continues "Something about a 'business between you and the Church'," ah...the incident with Leonie. So that _was_ something he wanted to know about.

"Care to explain yourself?" he asks with another arched eyebrow.

Okay, this one he should have no problem with, "I crossed pats wit a Golden Deer student while running an errand for Professor Hanneman. One from a village in de same area as Varholm," the slight shift in his stance seems to imply he understands what happened, but I continue just to be sure, "When she called my accent out as not from her area in front of oder students, dat was de only explanation I could think of."

He nods at my explanation, "I suspected as much when I heard that the student was Miss Pinelli," he furrows his brow before continuing, "However, you should have informed me of this development when it first occurred."

"I, uh…" should have? I didn't think it necessary considering the trouble seemed to have been contained before it really started, "Didn't tink about dat."

Seteth hmms at my statement, "You also didn't think about why you were assigned to the library in the first place recently."

I look at him in confusion. The heck is that even supposed to mean?

"This is the main reason why I called you here today," he begins "Tomas said that when you first started working with him, you asked for a tome about Garreg Mach's history," he narrows his eyes at me, which only serves to make me shiver, "Am I correct in assuming that was related to your research into finding your homeland?"

"Well,...yes," I hesitantly reply, "Dis Monastery has been Fódlan's main center of power for centuries. I tought it was a good place to start."

That gets no apparent reaction out of him, "Tomas also told me that you stopped reading that book around the same time you started working with Professor Hanneman. Is that correct?"

Damn. Of all the people who could snitch on me, of course it had to be all frigging Solon.

"Well...yes. Aldough dat's more of a coincidence dan anyting," I try to justify, "I had gone trough most of the book by de time I first met de professor."

"And what did you find?"

"...noting," I confess. It's true I actually gave up halfway through, but what I had already gone through was getting me nowhere.

"Nothing," he parrots sternly, "And yet you didn't try other texts. Just focused on assisting Tomas from then on."

Uh-oh. I hadn't thought about how to explain that.

"And besides that," he continues unperturbed, "Why did Professor Hanneman start teaching you magic?"

That takes me aback. How the hell did he come to that conclusion?

"I…" I attempt to say, "Don't know what you…"

"When you first arrived here, you knew nothing about magic," he cuts me off, "You said so yourself. And yet, just a few hours ago, I found you in the training grounds. The same training grounds from which some of the night watch claimed to have heard the sound of thunders during the last week. With also Flayn saying she saw you practicing Thunder Magic."

Fuck…

"There aren't many people here that could have taught you. Not only is Professor Hanneman one of those, he's the only one you've been seen around since you first arrived here."

That's...admittedly a valid point, but not definitive…

"Furthermore," he continues, "One thing he's known for, is the fact that he asks each new person at the Monastery about their status as Crest-bearers or not. That is what your first meeting was about, I take it?"

"Oh, yes" I reply, although by now I can feel a drop of sweat coming down my temple, "He found I didn't have one."

"Did he?" Seteth leans his head back and gives me a glare that…reminds me an awful lot of the one Rhea gives Byleth if he joins Edelgard in the game.

My blood freezes in my veins at his question. What is he getting at?

"Here is what I think happened:" Rhea's advisor keeps that glare up as he continues, "When he analyzed your blood for Crests, he found something out of the ordinary. Something you believed was related to your arrival in Fódlan. And during the times you've 'assisted him', you two actually looked into it, which is why you've made no further study of the library's texts. And along the way, he taught you magic."

…

"Look me in the eyes," he commands as he returns his head to a normal position, "Look me in the eyes and tell me what it is he found."

I do as he says and lock eyes with him. What I would like to tell him is that he's wrong, that I merely asked Hanneman if he could teach me magic and that I'm actually still looking into possible leads regarding my homeland.

But every time I try to utter those words, I find my eyes unable to keep contact with his.

"...he found I have traces of a Crest of Dominic," I ultimately admit.

"Beg your pardon?" His eyes widen immediately.

"Traces of a Crest of Dominic," I repeat, "Dat's what he called it. A new type of Crest, weaker dan the Minor ones. Someting I didn't have before."

"Why did you inform no one else of this?", I fail to keep eye contact with the look he then shoots me,

"Because I wanted to keep a low profile," I explain, "I know Crests are a big deal here. Even dose dat aren't particularly special."

For a moment - just a moment - I glimpse a look of sympathy on Seteth's face before it is replaced by his usual stern gaze, "I'm afraid that low profile is no longer possible," he states, "Whatever magic was used on you, there is no question the exploitation of holy artifacts was involved. As such, it is in the Church's best interest to investigate."

"What are you going to do?" I gulp, of course that doesn't sound like good news to me.

"First of all, the Archbishop needs to be informed. Then, she will be the one to decide how to proceed."

"And what should I expect her to do?"

Seteth takes a moment before replying.

"It is most likely you will be removed from your post at the library and be moved to a secret location, where you will be kept safe."

What?

"Those tasked with investigating possible leads will have to be informed of this new type of Crest you possess,"

WHAT?

"Also, Professor Hanneman's research thus far will have to be confiscated and used as the Church sees fit."

Wait, if they confiscate Hanneman's research...what he also found about Byleth and the brat...and his suspicions regarding the Slitherers…

Oh, hell no, I'm not letting the plot get derailed to this extent!

"Is dat really necessary?" I try to argue, "Professor Hanneman seemed confident in what he was doing and…"

"I'm afraid Professor Hanneman, however noble his intentions, is in over his head," Seteth cuts me off, "The desecration of holy relics is the Church's business, not his."

"How are you so certain of dat?" I keep arguing, "He's a very capable man from what I've seen. And besides, Crests _are_ his field of study."

"Correct," he nods, "He's a researcher. Not an investigator. He may be used to taking students on missions, but people who managed to get their hands on Crest relics, exploit them and escape the Church's notice are something far more devious," he leans forward for the last thing he has to say, "I know this isn't ideal for either of you, but it is for both of your sakes."

I try to come up with something to keep arguing, but unfortunately I come up blank.

At least, with valid arguments to his points. There is one thing I can do to keep future events from going sideways. It's going to be the stupidest thing I've ever done. Probably the most cruel as well.

But you know what? Fuck it, I've let a bunch of fictional characters order me around without complaint long enough.

I take a deep breath to calm my nerves, before slowly uttering my next words, "Look, I have kept quiet about your secret for all dese monts. Why don't you return de favor and agree to keep all dis between de two of us? No telling de Archbishop, no telling Professor Hanneman, just de two of us pretending dis conversation never happened."

The stiff lizard tilts his head at that, with a wary look in his eyes, "Secret? What are you talking about?"

I mentally take another deep breath. Here goes nothing, I guess.

"While working around here, I've heard some tings about you," I explain, "Mainly dat you have de extremely rare Major Crest of Cichol and dat in twenty years of working here you haven't aged a day."

"Neither of those is a secret," he dismisses, although the wary look doesn't leave his eyes, "I haven't exactly gone out of my way to hide it. And as I've told many before, I'm equally astonished by how well I age and I have no idea how I came to possess such a Crest."

I applaud how genuine he sounds at saying all that. Too bad I know they are all lies.

"But I do."

Seteth doesn't say anything at that and only stares at me. Good, I have his attention.

"When I first met you, I told you I knew of Fódlan trough legends, remember?" he nods at my question, "Dere's another legend I tink you'd find intriguing: dat of de ancient Dragon Tribes of Archanea."

His eyes widen as soon as he hears the word 'Dragon'. He manages to regain his composure fairly quickly, but it's clear he has an idea of what I'm talking about.

Well, now I've done it. Even if I had any doubt about doing this, there's no turning back now, I suppose

"Long ago, de ancient land of Archanea was ruled by tribes of a people called 'Dragons'. Dey were beings so powerful in magic dat some were regarded as gods. But in trut, dey were merely powerful. So powerful dat some were near impossible to kill, but dey were mortal nonedeless."

Seteth tenses as I go on, but doesn't have any more of a reaction. So far so good.

"Someting interesting about dem," I continue "Is dat dey were capable of granting an individual immense powers by sharing deir blood wit dem. Dat individual would den pass de same power to deir descendants. People wit dat power would bear a sign similar to de Crests. A _singular_ sign."

He furrows his brow at that. He's probably wondering where I'm going with that, but I still can't help but feel scrutinized.

"_Keep it together,_" I tell myself, "_This isn't one of your professors judging how well you studied. This is you having to stand up for yourself._"

"De most famous example of dat are de tirteen gods of Jugdral's panteon," I go on, thankfully without my voice breaking. Yet, "Deir signs were called 'Holy Blood', and came in Major and Minor variants. Just like your Crests."

Seteth still tries not to have 'abnormal' reactions to my words, but it's clear he's starting to struggle to keep his mouth shut.

Ok, I've still got this. Now, time for a little detour…

"I've noticed an interesting ting about your Goddess: she supposedly granted over twenty different Crests to various people. Even dough she's de same being."

At that observation, Seteth manages to regain enough of his wits to comment, "Which should be proof enough that she isn't one of these Dragons."

Hook, line and sinker, Seteth. I'd sigh in relief, but I can't afford to show weakness. Not now, at least.

"Oh, I disagree," I reply, "Especially since you're in front of me."

Again, Seteth tries to stay collected, but color is starting to leave his face, "What...do you mean?"

Oh yes, it's working! Time for the final nail in the coffin...

"A lot of interesting tales narrate events regarding de Dragon Tribes. But de most well-documented one is deir downfall."

Seteth almost jumps at that, "Downfall?"

"Yes," I nod, "For reasons dat were never discovered, de Dragon Tribes started suffering from someting dey called 'Degeneration'. Dey stopped bearing children and deir very same powers started twisting dem into feral savage monsters bent on destroying everyting in deir pat."

"In order to survive de Degeneration, one of de Tribes - de Naga, I tink dey were called," which depends on whether IS ever confirmed the Tribes' names or not, but that shouldn't be important right now, "Proposed a solution: seal away deir powers and take on human forms."

"And…" Seteth tries to say, drops of sweat starting to form on his forehead, "And what happened then?"

"Dose who were too proud and arrogant to accept dat, in de end, had to be destroyed," at least, I assume that's what happened to Medeus and the Earth Dragons in the time between Mystery of the Emblem and Awakening, "Dose who did consent to it came to be known as 'Manaketes'. And dey could be distinguished from normal humans by tree tings: green hair, green eyes and a pair of pointed ears."

_That_ is when Seteth's jaw drops and he releases the gasp he'd been holding. Perfect.

"Now," I continue in a low voice as I lean forward to him, "Do you understand what secret I'm talking about?"

To his credit, he does recover enough to try and dismiss my allegations. Even though it's a weak defense after the reaction he's just had, "You are insane. What makes you think that just because I share some physical traits with these creatures I am one of them?"

Ah...uh…right, I need something more concrete to prove my point. Perhaps his reaction?

No wait, how could I have forgotten when I just said it?

"If I am insane, why don't you show me your ears?" I challenge, doing my best not to show the hesitation I just had, "Come on, show me dey're rounded and I'll take everyting back."

He doesn't move one muscle. Just like I thought. Fantastic.

Ok, now time for the part where I am 'off the mark' so he doesn't start thinking I know all of the Nabateans' history…

"Look, I don't know why you and de oder Manaketes responsible for de Crests came to dis place or why you let Sotis take all de credit for helping Seiros, de Saints and de Elites defeat Nemesis and I honestly don't care," a bit of color returns to his face. Just a little, "What I do care about, is not getting involved into Fódlan's bigger picture or becoming de catalyst for some sort of crusade. All I want to do is return home."

Seteth takes a deep breath, "So what are you proposing?"

"You already know what I'm proposing," I reply, "Unless you stopped listening after 'secret'."

His gaze unfocuses from me and he stares in the distance, lost in thought.

I opt to let him muse. Better not to push him too much, or this is going to backfire.

"So what you are saying," he hesitantly says, "Is that if I just let you and Professor Hanneman be...you will stay quiet...about all of this?"

I nod. No need to make too many demands. Especially considering the more I'd try to get out of him, the less cooperative he will be.

And the more out for my blood as well.

I do my best not to gulp at that thought.

"Do we have a deal?" I ask while offering a hand.

He regards my hand with suspicion, "How do I know that in the future you won't demand more of me?"

"You don't," I admit, "But consider dis: what more could I possibly ask of you? In dis state de only ting you have over oder men is de ability to turn into a gigantic reptilian creature, which I have no use for."

Plus, this whole thing is already more daring than I would have ever liked to. I'd be insane trying to push my luck further.

And that's without considering the added unnecessary strain I'd add to his already complicated position.

Seteth doesn't reply after right away and stares at my hand a little longer. But ultimately, he shakes it.

"Know this," he adds with a warning tone, "If anything you do threatens this Monastery, the people working here or the students, I will act accordingly. Whatever the consequences."

How very noble. Good thing I won't be the one doing the threatening.

I nod to him and when we break our shake of hands, I get back on my feet and make to leave. However, when I'm halfway to the door, another thought comes to my mind. While Seteth agreed not to interfere, he didn't say anything about keeping me around. And he is the second-in-command of this place.

Guess it's time for some old-fashioned bluffing

I turn back and find Seteth unwilling to make eye contact with me. Doing my best warning tone, I tell him, "One last ting for you as well: do not try to double-cross me. Should anyting, and I mean _anyting_, happen to me, your secret will come out."

Seteth narrows his eyes but still refuses to look at me, "What is that supposed to mean?" he hisses.

Ok, let's keep this vague, "I could give you a list of which legends I've mentioned details to whom in de Monastery," _that_ gets him to acknowledge me again, "But why should I make dis easy for you?"

I leave the ancient crocodile's office after that.

* * *

It's funny. Eating has never been a problem for me. Even at my lowest moments, eating was something that I could always look forward to. To the point I had a bit of a weight problem during my teen years.

But somehow, tonight, I have no appetite.

"Are you feeling alright, Eugenio?" Alois asks me.

"I am, don't worry," I lie.

What happened today is not the worst case scenario, but close enough. I had to use my knowledge of this world to literally blackmail one of the main characters. I literally had to blackmail frigging Seteth.

I have no idea what I was thinking, starting this game of intrigue. Outside of said knowledge, what do I actually have? None I know in this place would choose helping me out over the Church. And the moment Seteth starts looking into what sort of contingencies I have put up, he'll learn mine was all a bluff and will have me kicked out of here.

Or worse, silenced forever.

And he _will_ investigate that. Even though I purposely left Flayn out of this, he now knows I know of her. And since he's not clueless, he'll be able to guess I know she's a 'Manakete' too. And if there's one thing you don't fuck with him over, it's Flayn.

But what else could I have done? Being kept in seclusion is near the bottom of the list of things I want to happen to me, and the Church starting an investigation would have derailed future events too much, especially if they got their hands on Hanneman's investigation. For their own good, I could not let that happen.

"I'm serious, Eugenio," Alois insists, "You haven't touched your food yet. And I've never seen you so pale."

Goddammit Alois, not tonight…

"I said I'm fine," I hiss. Something I regret almost immediately as his eyes widen in a hurt expression.

"Sorry," I quickly apologize as I start rubbing my forehead, "It's just I'm having issues with my job. Noting too serious, but I need to figure dis out on my own."

For a moment, Alois looks like he's about to retort, but then he seems to settle on just saying, "I see. If you need any help with those issues, though, don't hesitate to ask."

"I'll keep it in mind," I reply. I obviously won't ask since he can't actually help with this Seteth situation. But after the acid reply I gave earlier, it's the least I can do.

* * *

[Seteth]

_This is...not good._

_Of all the ways I was expecting Eugenio to possibly become a danger, him knowing of Dragons and putting together the pieces of my true heritage was not one I was expecting._

_And all of this at what could not have been a worse moment: just a couple of months after Flayn arrived here. And even if Eugenio didn't say anything about her, it wouldn't take anyone long to understand her true nature if word about 'Manaketes' starts spreading._

_So...what do I do now?_

_First and foremost, I need to make sure Flayn stays safe. I could take her away from the Monastery, but to do that I'd have to share what I learned today with Rhea. And if I know her, she won't sit idle and let Eugenio do as he pleases with knowledge of our race. And if what he said is true, even if she were to deal with him before he can tell anyone, our secret would come to light anyway._

_So all I'm left with is trying to discover exactly what kind of machinations Eugenio has set up and deal with them before he endangers us all._

_Still, at least what he said he knew...Archanea, the Tribes, the Degeneration...the Agarthans never learned of any of that. That means he can't be one of them._

_But even then...could it really be he's from the same world as Mother?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And chapter 12 is out! The one where we come face to face with Seteth again and he makes an unpleasant discovery.
> 
> I would like to thank LowerBlack, Softandhappy and Stormtide Leviathan for betareading this! Come join us at the TreeHouse Discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> Also, in the next months updates might get less frequent. A new semester is starting for me very soon. I hope you all understand.
> 
> See you next time!


	14. Interlude 2-Hanneman

"And as of now, this is the situation," I conclude my explanation to Professor Byleth.

True to his odd nature, my fellow teacher has no apparent reaction. And even his following musing sounds rather emotionless, "Others like me…"

I nod, "Yes. Though the circumstances are different, the experiments suggest all three of you have artificial Crests."

"And speaking of yours, have you talked with Captain Jeralt about your vision?" he nods, "What did he say?"

He shakes his head, "Nothing that could help. He doesn't recall anyone called Zahras. Said it's possible we met him under an alias, but he doesn't remember the place I described to him either."

I sigh. That is unfortunate indeed. Without any sort of input from either of them, identifying this Zahras will be that much harder and...

"However," he continues, "We spoke about what the vision could possibly be, and there is an instance of something similar happening before."

That picks my interests, "Something similar? As in, Captain Jeralt remembers you having some kind of vision beforehand?"

He shakes his head, "For as long as I've lived, I've always had a recurring nightmare: a massive battle between two armies on a field. Two armies led by two people called Seiros and Nemesis."

My eyes widen at that: "Seiros and Nemesis?" I ask bewildered, "As in Saint Seiros and the Liberation King Nemesis?"

"Most likely," he replies.

Goddess above, a vision of a battle between the two's armies? With the two present? Could it be…?

"How did the battle end?" I ask excitedly.

"Seiros disarmed Nemesis, at the cost of her sword," he replies monotely, "She then knocked him to the ground and proceeded to stab him with a knife until he was dead."

It _was_ the Battle of Tailtean!

"So was it like…?" I think for a moment on what words to use "A memory from Nemesis' perspective?"

Professor Byleth shakes his head, "No. I was not watching the battle from his perspective. And it didn't end when he died. It lasted a little longer. Long enough for Saint Seiros to confirm Nemesis was dead."

Fascinating…so if the logic is the two different visions have the same nature, and this one he's dreamed about is from the ancient past, so must be the one with Zahras. However, that one was from the perspective of another person. Why such a difference?

"Father and I both suspect the cause of these visions is this Crest of mine," Professor Byleth continues, "Are we right?"

"If we are to exclude the possibility that they are repressed memories," which we will, since Captain Jeralt cannot recall the event himself, "Then you are most likely correct, since neither of the other students assisting me experienced anything such as this. Nor did any Major Crest bearer ever."

The question now is, what is the meaning behind the visions? Does the Crest of Flames grant the ability to glimpse into the past? Are the visions actually a message of some kind from the Goddess?

And furthermore, how does the artificial nature of Professor's Byleth affect its properties?

"My apologies if this makes your lead worthless."

What? Oh, he's referring to my theory regarding Zahras' possible origins.

"No harm done," I reassure him, "To find truth we must first exclude wrong leads. And even then, the possibility of Imperial nobles being involved is still very much viable."

"How so?"

This is the detail that gave away Miss Lysithea's identity to Eugenio. Well, part of it, at least. I'm not sure how knowledgeable of the Alliance's history Professor Byleth is compared to him, but it is one of the students under his care we're talking about. Better not have a repeat of last time and stay vague.

"The family of one of the others has some...unpleasant recent history with the Empire," I explain to the professor, "Unless they negate it, I have to assume their Crest came from them."

Professor Byleth doesn't respond to that and, for the following minutes, just stares blankly at me. His inexpressive face makes it hard to discern what is going through his head. Is he thinking of who I could be referring to?

"By your own volition or under request?"

"I...beg your pardon?"

"Are you keeping this person's identity secret by your own volition or because they requested it?"

How did he…? Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. I was going to say it anyway.

"They expressly requested that their identity be kept secret. So did the other one," I explain to him, "And I believed accommodating those wishes was for the best."

He nods to that, "That is good. For now," I can't tell with that tone of his whether he means he agrees or is just going along with it, "But you know that sooner or later they will have to abandon that anonymity, don't you?"

That statement puzzles me, "What do you mean?"

"If you want to expose these people, you will need evidence," he explains, "Evidence like the testimonies of all three of us. And if mine doesn't lead anywhere - which is highly likely if neither I nor Father can think of anything - you will have to rely and make public the other two's."

"I know," I reply half-heartedly, "But before I do that, I want to make sure there are no other alternatives. If I confront them about this the wrong way, we may lose their help entirely."

"My advice, if you will take it, is not to wait. The longer you do, the more comfortable they will get with their anonymity and the harder they will be to convince."

I furrow my brow at his statement, "Are you saying that the next time I see both of them, I should tell them then and there that in order to deal with the ones responsible for their Crests they will have to come out and testify?"

"You are the Crest scholar," he answers matter-of-factly, "You are the one who has had dealings with nobility in the past. You are the one who has the full picture in his hands. The choice is yours."

I...have nothing to rebuke against that.

"Was that all you needed?" Professor Byleth asks.

It takes me a moment to reply, "Yes, I think that is all for today. Thank you."

He nods and leaves my office without missing a beat, his words still ringing in my ears.

_You will have to rely and make public the other two's testimonies._

_The longer you wait, the more comfortable they will get with their anonymity and the harder they will be to convince._

_You are the one who has the full picture in his hands. The choice is yours._

Well, thankfully if I can convince who I'm meeting tomorrow to let me check her Crests I will have both a more solid lead and a viable alternative to Eugenio and Miss Lysithea's testimonies.

With those last thoughts, I open the drawer with my notebooks, grab the one about the Crest of Flames and note down these latest developments.

* * *

"I said this was supposed to be a private meeting between just Lady Edelgard and me, Mister Hubert."

"And I'm afraid I cannot allow that, Professor," the dark-haired youth responds, "Where Lady Edelgard goes, I go."

I mentally sigh. The Vestra's devotion for the royal bloodline is commendable, but sometimes it can be a little grating.

Thankfully, the princess doesn't seem to share his sentiment.

"It is alright, Hubert," she dismisses him, "I can deal with this on my own."

"Are you certain, Lady Edelgard?"

"I am," she nods, "Now, please wait outside."

"As you decree, Lady Edelgard," the boy bows to her and then follows her commands.

"Now, Professor Hanneman," the Imperial princess then turns to me, "What is it you wanted to talk about?"

Very well. Now comes the difficult part…

"I wanted to discuss with you my recent requests. The ones for a sample of your blood…"

"The answer is still no," she cuts me off, brow furrowed.

"Please let me explain first. This is important."

At first she doesn't reply and just scowls at me. Then she crosses her arms.

"Speak."

Let's do this right then. I have only one chance.

"It is a known fact that when Lady Edelgard von Hresvelg was born in eleven sixty-two with _brown_ hair. And yet, today, you stand in front of me with a different hair color. How did that come to pass?"

"It appears you have been away from the Empire for far too long," she answers impassively, "A few years ago I was struck by an illness. An illness from which I recovered at the cost of my hair's pigmentation."

As a matter of fact, I _had_ heard that. I just wanted to see if she'd adhere to that version. And considering how she said it, it must be either the truth or a lie she's grown used to explaining.

And now I must find out which of the two it is.

"That might be the case. And normally I would accept that explanation," I concede, "However, during these last few months, I've come across a rather interesting phenomenon. A Crest-related phenomenon, to be precise."

The princess arches an eyebrow at that, "What phenomenon?"

"A student whose hair changed colour a few years ago," I explain, "I met that student to see what Crest they bore a couple of months ago. When my Analyzer reacted...erratically to their blood," the Crest of Gloucester and that of Charon overlapping each other still counts as 'erratic behaviour', "I asked for how that was possible and if they ever noticed any abnormality. The change of hair color was the only one they could think of."

Lady Edelgard goes back to a neutral expression. A neutral expression that, depending on what is going through her head, could be either a good or bad thing.

"How is a sample of my blood going to help you study this phenomenon?" she asks, her face still betraying no emotion.

Ah, a legitimate question. Good thing I still have the casket with the blood samples close at hand.

I pick up Miss Lysithea's sample and show it to her, "There is an old experiment used to identify whether people bear Crests or not. Usually it would turn people's blood green or yellow. But as you can see, the student's turned this color."

As I show the vial to her, Lady Edelgard's face morphs into a curious look as she observes it with clear interest.

"And thus you need to see if my blood would react like that?" she inquires after a bit.

I nod, "Precisely."

What I would normally expect after that would be more questions, either about the nature of this experiment or meant to illustrate what I'm going to do.

As Lady Edelgard's face goes back to a neutral expression, she does ask more questions after a first moment of silence, but not the ones I expected.

"Exactly what Crest does this other student bear?"

"Huh…" I hesitate, taken by surprise, "The Minor Crest of Charon."

She nods, "And am I right in assuming that by a 'change of hair color' you actually meant ' they lost their hair pigmentation' like me?" she arches an eyebrow, "I assume that's why you immediately came to think we had the same thing instead of believing that it was my illness?"

"Well…" I'm taken aback again, "Yes, but…"

"If that is the case then," she cuts me off, "Is it too far of an assumption to assume this other student is Lysithea von Ordelia?"

...oh, no.

"I...can neither confirm nor deny that," I admit.

"I see," she replies, "Well, in any case, I'll make sure to provide a sample of blood as soon as possible."

I widen my eyes, "You will?"

"Of course," she slightly smiles, "If it's to help one of my fellow students, what's the harm in it?"

Oh, fantastic! I managed to convince her! Now I will finally have the answers I need!

"There is no need to wait, Lady Edelgard," I reply as I grab my syringe, "I can take a sample right here and no…"

I stop as I notice the Imperial heiress freeze in place, her face paling and her eyes widening as they focus on the needle in my hand.

"Lady Edelgard?"

"Put that away," she hisses.

Why such a sudden change of behavior? She was fine before I grabbed the needle and now…

Oh.

Without another word, I put the syringe back where it originally was. Immediately, Lady Edelgard closes her eyes as she releases a sigh of relief.

"Thank you."

"My apologies," is all I can tell her, "I did not know you…"

"No one is supposed to," she cuts me off, "And I would like it to remain that way."

"Of course," I reassure her, "This shall remain between you and me."

"Thank you," she quickly recomposes herself, "As for that sample, I will see to it you receive it. But only when...when I can."

"I understand."

It is not optimal, but for her own good it will have to do.

At least this fear of needles is reminiscent of Miss Lysithea's, which is one more similarity between the two. And thus one more thing making the two having gone through the same procedures more likely.

"Thank you, Professor," she nods at me, "Have a pleasant rest of the day."

"You as well."

She leaves my office after that exchange and rejoins her retainer.

* * *

With both my duties as a professor and my studies in Crestology, I normally don't have much free time. And when I have to organize meetings, I have to be meticulous about _when_ I organize them.

For that reason, I usually don't particularly appreciate when I have unexpected visitors. Thankfully it's usually students who need help with their studies, which I can deal with without too much trouble.

Who today's visitor is, however, surprises me.

"Sir Alois? What are you doing here?"

The Knight-Lieutenant glances briefly outside my study, then carefully closes the door and then comes to sit on the other hand of my desk, a grave expression on his face.

What exactly is the meaning of all this?

Sir Alois leans towards me and, to my shock, whispers, "Professor Hanneman, you are not supposed to know this yet, but the Blue Lions have been chosen as the escort for the Airmid convoy this year."

"The Airmid convoy?" I ask puzzled, "I'm glad to know in advance it will be the Blue Lions' turn this year, but why the need to tell me beforehand?"

That mission is by far the simplest a class could ask for. And I'm also assuming he's disobeying his superiors by doing this, if his behavior is anything to go by.

"Because I have a request for you," Sir Alois keeps whispering, "I need you to take Eugenio with you."

"...what?" I ask bewildered, "Why would I...why would you ask that of me?"

"I think he needs a distraction from the Monastery," is the Knight's hushed reply, "In the last few nights I've noticed he's been growing more and more secluded and irritable. He said it's because he's having problems with his work at the library, but…" he takes a moment to find his next words, "Something turned up with your research recently, hasn't it? Something not particularly good."

...sixteen years I've taught here. Sixteen years I've known him. Sixteen years I've always thought of him as nothing more than a well-meaning buffoon. And now he's showing to be more perceptive than I've given him credit for in sixteen years.

"There _is_ a recent development that might be responsible for this turn in his behavior," I admit, "However, what exactly it is, I would rather not share if he hasn't."

"And that's good. That's fine by me. I'm not here to pry," Sir Alois reassures, "But I believe whatever it is the two of you discovered plus being stuck here for months away from everything and everyone he knew…" he trails off, "I believe he's trying to bottle up his frustration. And that is _not_ good."

I...had not considered that possibility.

"I would like nothing more than to have a proper conversation with him about it," Sir Alois continues, "However, trying to push him into talking right now could do more harm than good. So the best I can do right now, is distracting his mind from all this. And the only option I have for that is your mission for this month."

That makes sense. Whatever the Black Eagles' and the Golden Deer's missions are going to be, there is little doubt they will be more eventful. There is a problem, however…

"Even if I agree to this, there is no guarantee that he will."

The senior Knight rubs his chin in thought for a moment, "What about trying to come up with an excuse then? Something like...I don't know, that you need him around for more studies?"

That is...actually not a bad idea.

Eugenio so far has only delved into Thunder Magic. His skills with it are growing, so the next thing I wanted to do with him was trying to teach him Fire and Wind Magic. And considering which branches of Reason Miss Annette and Mercedes have been delving into…

"I believe there is something I can do," I tell Sir Alois, "I can't assure you that it will work, but I can try."

"That is all I ask," he reassures me, "So long as you don't tell him I was the one who asked for this. I don't want him to refuse just to dismiss my concerns."

"I see," I comment, "I will do what I can, then."

"Thank you," the Knight sighs, "Now, please excuse me, but I need to talk with one of my fellow Knights. Good day."

He rushes back to the door and leaves before I can say anything else.

Well, that was certainly...unexpected. I never would have expected the ever loyal Sir Alois would be willing to go behind the Church's back to help a friend. Not that he's betraying his knightly vows, but still…

Unfortunately, convincing Eugenio to come along will not be the only problem. While the Blue Lions shouldn't have a problem with having him around, Seteth is another matter. He's let me work with Eugenio so far because I claimed I needed his help with my paperwork. This time, he could figure out the truth.

Well, I suppose I'll worry about it when the time is right for me to request it. And that will be only when I'm officially told the Lions' mission for this month. And Goddess knows when precisely that will be.

* * *

[Edelgard]

"_Lady Edelgard, I must protest with your latest decision," Hubert says once we've put some distance between us and Professor Hanneman's office, "Agreeing to Professor Hanneman's request…"_

"_I know Hubert," I cut him off, "However, think of it this way: the fact he hasn't desisted after being denied more than once shows he's dedicated to this research of his. What other way to make him stop than to consent to his requests without making him suspicious?"_

"_Even still, you must realize there is more to this than just a case of a student changing hair color," he keeps protesting, "And if our suspicions about Miss Ordelia are true…"_

"_I know," I intervene, "However, he said himself he's looking into the possibility of my blood reacting the same way as hers. Not that he needs to check which Crest I bear."_

_Hubert stops for a moment, processing my words. When he's finished, the angles of his mouth slightly turn upward._

"_I see," he comments, "Have you thought on how to proceed with that?"_

"_Not yet," I reply, "First we will need to look into whatever that experiment he conducted was. What I said to him will buy us time, but we will still need to move swiftly. If blood from an actual bearer is required for this to work, getting a sample will be that much more difficult."_

"_That it will," Hubert agrees, "I will look into possible ways to acquire it."_

"_I also need you to look into what Professor Hanneman has been up to," I add, to which he arches an eyebrow, "You said it yourself: there is more going on with Professor Hanneman and Lysithea than just a change of hair color. And I want to know just how much. If only to know how much at risk of stumbling upon _them _the professor is."_

_Hubert freezes at that, "Do you really think the professor could potentially get that far?"_

"_I don't know," I sigh, "Which is why we need to find out."_

_He nods to that last statement, "As you say, Lady Edelgard."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was Hanneman's intermission. The quickest update and the shortest chapter so far, but it needed to go this way. Hope you still liked it.
> 
> Now, for the next chapter you'll have to wait a bit more. In the next couple of weeks I'm going to be pretty busy and without much time to write. And depending on how things go after that, chapter 13 might not be up before october. Hope you understand.
> 
> Once more, thanks to LowerBlack and 16th-Beat. Join us at the TreeHouse Discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> I'll see you all next time!


	15. Chapter 13-The Airmid Convoy

When Professor Hanneman said we had to meet on regular intervals to see what kind of improvement I've made, the initial issue was _when_ to meet, since both of our jobs would keep us busy. Ultimately we settled on Saturday afternoon as a sort of last stretch before the weekend (at least for him, I've still got work on Sunday).

However, today, the twenty-fourth, is two days before the Houses will go out on their missions. Because this isn't the game where the classes magically get to the site of their missions in a day. They need to move days in advance to get there.

I suppose that will mean a break in this routine for a week or two while Hanneman is away with the Lions.

When I arrive in front of his office, however, there is a surprise waiting for me: Shamir leaning on the wall opposite of the door with her arms crossed.

"Oh, hello Shamir," I greet her.

"Hello," she greets back, her gaze acknowledging me only briefly.

"Are you here to meet Professor Hanneman?"

"I am. However, he's currently busy with Jeralt, so I'm waiting."

With Jeralt? What could the two have to talk about? Is it about Byleth's Crest?

Well, I suppose I'll have to remember to ask when it's my turn.

But why is _Shamir_ here?

"And what are you here for? I was under de impression de two of you don't interact much."

"I imagine it's for the Lions' mission. I'll be escorting them for the Airmid convoy."

Ah, so she's gonna accompany the Lions? Good to...wait.

"What's the Airmid convoy?"

"A convoy of supplies coming to the Monastery at the end of every Harpstring Moon. A contingent of Knights and one of the Houses rendezvous with them at the Myrddin bridge and accompanies them here."

Ah. So basically an escort mission. And a routine one not worth mentioning by the game.

"Sounds like a rader simple mission."

"It is," she sighs, "The roads travelled are usually safe from bandits or monster attacks. And the contingent of Knights is usually enough to dispose of anyone stupid enough to attack."

Sounds like she's not really thrilled about being part of it.

"What about you? Here to discuss how your training will proceed while he's away?"

"What?" I ask, baffled, "What are you…?"

"First you start 'helping out' Hanneman when he clearly doesn't need it. Then you start suddenly leaving the dining hall around the same time rumors of someone practicing magic during the night start spreading."

Oh...

"Doesn't take a genius to connect the dots. Just someone less oblivious than Catherine."

"So you haven't told your girlfriend? Tanks for dat."

I almost miss it, but for an instant Shamir seems to wince. And her next words prove I didn't just imagine it.

"You are welcome. And she's not my girlfriend."

"Really? I don't hear you complaining when she calls you 'partner'."

"Then you need to check again what 'partner' means."

Sure, sure Shamir.

At that moment, the door to Hanneman's office opens and out comes Jeralt.

"Good afternoon, you two," he tells Shamir and I, "Sorry for the wait. This took longer than expected."

"No problem, Captain," I tell him while Shamir merely grunts.

Jeralt gives us one last glance before saying, "Right, then. I'll leave you to him. Stay safe,", turning away and leaving.

"Alright, den," I turn back to Shamir, "Since you were here before me, I take dat means you're first?"

"Yes," she raises from the wall, "But don't get too comfortable. If he's going to ask what I think he is, this won't take long."

If you're going to talk about the logistics of the missions, I have some doubts about that. Even with how blunt you can be.

As she enters and closes the door to Hanneman's office, I take the place previously occupied by her on the wall and lean on it, ready for the incoming wait.

But, to my astonishment, no more than two minutes later, Shamir is already out of the office.

"Your turn."

My jaw falls open, "Wha…? How did…? What did you…?"

"Unimportant," is all the answer she gives me as she steps away from the doorframe, "Now get in."

Unable to offer a counterargument to that, I do as Shamir said, while she herself walks away.

With how brief her meeting was and considering what Shamir thinks of nobles (even former ones) in general, I half-expect to find Hanneman lying on the ground with a broken nose and/or a split lip. Instead, he's sitting normally at his desk, although he looks baffled.

Alright, what the actual heck have you done, Shamir?

"Professor…?" I try to stir him from his stupor.

"Huh? Oh!" he jumps, "My apologies, Eugenio. I hadn't noticed you."

Yeah, I figured, "What exactly happened wit Shamir?"

"Oh, you saw her?" I nod, "Nothing to worry about. Just...discussing a detail for the Blue Lions' mission for this month. She'll be accompanying us, you see."

Not much of a discussion if it lasts so little, but alright. If it's about the Lions' mission, it won't have to do with me.

What comes next is the usual routine: I update him on how my spellcasting is developing, demonstrate it and he comments about it.

By now, I've managed to arrive to the point I start feeling fatigue after casting Thunder eight times in quick succession. Which, according to Hanneman, is not bad, but nothing extraordinary either. Just average.

Which makes me wonder if I'm becoming Fódlan's version of Stahl.

"So how do we proceed now, Professor?" I ask him.

"Well," he rubs his chin, "Considering what we've observed so far, I believe it's time we try to see your aptitude for other branches of Reason Magic. Specifically Fire and Wind."

So not Dark and its cancerous effects? That's a relief.

"So I'm assuming you want me to study the diagrams for dose two while you'll be away? Understood, Professor."

"Actually," he interrupts me, "I have a proposition for you."

A proposition? Of what kind?

"Would you like to join me and the Blue Lions for our mission?"

"...what?" I reply bewilderedly, "Why?"

"A rather simple reason, really," he nonchalantly answers, "There are two students among my class that have focused their studies on Fire and Wind Magic respectively. They also graduated from Fhirdiad's School of Sorcery, so they are already knowledgeable in the application of magic."

Are you seriously being this kind of utter idiot, Hanneman, or are you doing this just to irritate me?

"Aren't you forgetting dat all of dis is supposed to be a secret, Professor?" I say, trying to hold back my more venomous retort.

"Oh, I'm not," he replies unfazed, "We are, in fact, keeping your Crest secret. But these two students wouldn't question too much someone trying to learn magic on the side. Wanting to expand one's knowledge is always a valid reason. And they would have no reason to report you to Seteth."

Well… I suppose if they were to be told that I asked Hanneman to teach me after I helped him a few times and that he accepted even if he wasn't supposed to...those two were pretty understanding girls…and Seteth already knows I'm studying magic anyway.

However, all I actually have to keep him in line is a bluff. If I start pushing it, it might motivate him to start digging more. And then I'd be doomed.

"Shouldn't you run dis by Setet? I doubt he'd let you take me witout his saying so."

Strangely, at my question the mage tenses, "As a matter of fact, I did run it by him," uh-oh, "And he...agreed to it surprisingly easily."

He did? Huh...guess our agreement is paying fruit.

But why does Hanneman seem so concerned by it?

"Is dere some kind of trouble wit dat?"

"Possibly," he sighs, "Considering who you are, I had expected he would ask some questions. Instead, as soon as he heard your name, he just...agreed to this."

Sounds like he's coming through his end of the deal, then. That's good I suppose.

"I'm starting to suspect he might be on to us."

Oh, you have no idea. Although the terms of the deal were that Hanneman couldn't know either, so maybe it's best I hear what he wants to do now.

"So, what do we do about it?"

"Nothing for now," he replies, "Seteth has no proof of anything. We will just have to be careful to keep it that way."

Good, good.

"So, do you agree to come along for the Blue Lions' mission?"

Well...I admit the perspective of two people that are themselves learning could be useful. But the problem remains that being around them comes with the risk of exposing myself.

Still, it's the Blue Lions students we're talking about. In a version of Fódlan that is going the Verdant Wind way. They are not the Chosen One Byleth or the War Bringer Edelgard or the smartass Claude. As harsh as it is to say, they are all irrelevant in the grander scheme of things. Aside from Dimitri and Dedue, to some degree.

And the ones making up their class are the kids Ashe and Annette, who are as gullible as anyone their age; Ingrid, who has her unhealthy worship for chivalry; Felix and Sylvain, who won't mind me since they're Felix and Sylvain; Dedue, who will be filling his quiet giant quota; Dimitri, who will be busy keeping up his pleasant facade; and Mercedes, who is physically incapable of thinking ill of anyone.

All in all, no one should have any reason to be suspicious of me. And since Faerghus is on the opposite side of Fódlan compared to Gloucester, they shouldn't have the means to contradict the cover for my accent. I haven't met anyone from Sreng and the only guy from Duscur I've met speaks English perfectly, but if I resembled either of those people in any way, some other student from the Lions would have brought that up.

There is however, another matter that I must bring up.

"I believe it's doable," I concede, "For dis time. I've already heard from Shamir what your mission for dis mont will be. But for de next ones...I'm no combatant. I can't be dere for future, more combat-focused missions."

He seems unfazed by my words, "I know. But what we are discussing today is this one. Future missions are a matter for another day. And that day will be when we discuss about them."

Oh yeah? All good for me then.

"In dat case, I tink we have an agreement," I say, to which a pleased look comes to his face, "Any instructions I should keep in mind?"

"Not any more than what the students have, aside from, of course, informing Tomas," well, that one is a given, "We will depart at eight in the morning. Pack your spare clothing and the essentials for what you will need for the travel. We will be on the road for at least ten days, so keep that in mind."

Thankfully there shouldn't be much for me to pack. The Monastery's uniforms are the only pieces of clothing from this world I have, and the wyvern statuette obviously isn't an 'essential' for this trip. And I sure as hell am not taking my phone, documents and wallet out for this.

I will need some sort of bag, though.

"Do you have a spare bag to lend me, Professor?" I ask Hanneman, "I'm afraid I don't have one to use."

The elderly professor rubs his chin for a moment, before replying, "Come to me tomorrow in the afternoon and I should have one ready for use."

I nod to him, "Tank you."

He nods back before continuing, "The meeting point for me and the students will be by their classroom. It would be preferable for you to join us there. Otherwise, you can organize a different meeting point with Dame Shamir."

"I'll talk wit her about dat. Anyting else I should know?"

He shakes his head, "That is all. Should anything else come to my mind, I will let you know on time."

"Tank you Professor," I raise from the seat, "Den I'll see you on Monday. Good day."

"You as well," is the last thing he says before I walk out.

Well, this was a turn of events I would never have expected. By this point, I was convinced the most interaction I'd have with the students would be at the library. And now I'm going to be shoulder-to-shoulder with the entirety of the Blue Lions for over a week.

But still, these will be a few days when I'll be able to stay away from Seteth, Rhea and Solon. And everyone else who could take an interest in me because of the way I talk.

Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise after all.

* * *

Catherine splutters her beer after I'm finished recounting to the three what happened with Hanneman, sending sprays my way.

Thanks a lot, blondie.

At least Shamir and Alois' reaction is less exaggerated. In fact, it's almost too posed, with Shamir not reacting at all and Alois merely smiling. What the heck is up, guys?

"What?" Catherine asks between coughs to clear her throat, "He did what?"

"Invited me to join de Blue Lions in escorting de Airmid convoy," I repeat, "Which I agreed to."

"It's true," Shamir chimes in, with all three of us turning to her "I was right before him when meeting Hanneman. He wanted to know if it would be a problem if he brought one of the workers along," the bluehead's gaze then turns to me, "Now I know which one."

Well, that explains why Shamir wasn't surprised in the least at these news. But what of Alois?

"Even so," Catherine turns back to me, confusion evident on her face, "Why exactly is he taking you along?"

At that, I notice Alois' face falls, while Shamir quirks an eyebrow.

Ooookay...the former already knows, the latter figured it out, guess I can be honest with Catherine as well at this point.

Still, better if I start by playing shy.

I lean closer to her and whisper, "It's...a bit embarrassing to admit, but on de side Hanneman has been giving me lessons on Reason Magic. I suppose he wants to keep dem up."

"Or maybe he wants you to confront your studies with his students'," Shamir intervenes, "I imagine this would be the best opportunity for that."

Catherine starts turning back and forth between me and her confusedly after hearing that.

"Wait, you knew?" Alois asks, sounding genuinely surprised.

"I figured it out," she impassively replies while glancing at both of her fellows, "First he starts leaving earlier, then shortly after come the rumors of that Thunder mage," she quirks an eyebrow, although I notice she's glancing specifically at Alois, "Did you really not realize?"

Catherine blushes. Alois gulps. And I'm not sure if Shamir is actually implying she knew the latter was in on this.

"Anyway," I intervene before the two are embarrassed further, "For dis mont, de Professor will be taking me along. For de next ones, we'll see when de time comes. However, I don't tink I will actually take part."

"Why not?" Alois intervenes, "It sounds like it could be a nice change of pace once a month."

You seriously asking, Alois?

"It would be a chance of pace dat involves fighting. And we all know what kind of fighter I am."

"That is true" Shamir chimes in, "You were lucky it's the Airmid convoy. On any other mission you would have been deadweight."

I know that's true but gee, thanks.

"And even this won't exactly be a walk in the field," Catherine adds, "Are you sure you have everything you need to travel?"

"I do, don't worry," I reassure her, "De Professor said to take just spare cloting and de essentials. De only pieces of cloting I have are de Monastery's uniforms and…" I clear my throat, "De ones I had before."

All three of them nod to that. Good.

"And I don't have anyting else dat I particularly want to take along," I turn to Shamir, "I assume provisions and de like will be provided by de Knight escort?"

"They will," she nods, "Some of the students will be asked to help hunt for more if the need arises, but I doubt that will be your case."

Works for me.

"So, dat's it for me and Shamir for de next days," I turn to Catherine and Alois, "What about you two?"

"In a similar fashion to you two, I'll be accompanying the Golden Deer," Alois replies, "We're gonna deal with the last of the bandits that attacked the students last month. They've been spotted within Zanado."

So...chapter 2 of the game. The one where Byleth and students dispose of Kostas and his goons after Edelgard's left them to die. Strange. I don't remember him being present during that one.

I don't think it will change too much either way, but I hope this is just because the game glossed over who accompanies Byleth's class instead of more stuff being altered by my presence.

"Lucky," Catherine sighs, "I'm going to be stuck at the Monastery for some time."

Catherine, arguably the Church's most powerful Knight, stuck at Garreg Mach? Why?

"What happened?" Alois asks concerned, "Is there a problem, Catherine?"

She shakes her head, "No, no problem. It's just…" she glances around before leaning towards us, a somber expression on her face, "We've been getting reports of unrest within Gaspard territory. There are rumors concerning Lord Lonato. Rumors that he's preparing something. It isn't clear what. And Lady Rhea herself wants me on hand in case the Knights need to intervene."

Ooooh...chapter 3.

"Lord Lonato?" Alois asks shocked, "Isn't that...?"

Catherine nods solemnly before he can finish.

The adoptive father of one of the Lions' students? The father of Catherine's first partner-slash-boyfriend? An old friend that now hates her guts? Take your pick ladies and gentlemen.

Goddamn, all the stuff Catherine had to go through after the Tragedy of Duscur...

Thankfully the next subjects of discussion for the night are lighter than that.

* * *

Usually, the priests and clerics of the Church wear white and brown robes, which makes them easily distinguishable from everyone else one could come across here.

But one guy wearing a red and black version of that same robe is quite a surprise.

The guy seems to be in his forties, about as tall as Alois, with shoulder-length brown hair and eyes. He has a smile on his face that feels...strained. Especially with the sadness I can see in his eyes.

Solon seems as surprised as me by this red-robed priest, "Can I help you, Father…?"

"Aelfric," the guy says as he bows to him, "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir Tomas."

Aelfric...Aelfric, Aelfric, Aelfric...where have I heard that name before?

"I'm doing a small research on Crests," 'Father Aelfric' continues, "Could I have a look at the tomes available here?"

"Of course," Solon turns to me, "Eugenio, those tomes are in the History wing."

"Got it," I tell the zombie version of Izuka before turning to the priest, "Follow me, Father Aelfric."

"Thank you, Mister Eugenio," he replies as he comes after me.

When we get to the History wing, it makes me a moment of looking for the shelf with the various Crest books, but thankfully they are not books too difficult to locate, considering most of them have one or more Crests drawn on their spines.

"Here we go," I tell the red-robed priest as we approach it, "Anyting in particular you seek?"

He goes over the books instead of replying. At first, it seems a spark of interest has come to his melancholic eyes. But after going over the books, they return to their forlorn default.

"I don't suppose you know whether there is any information about the Four Apostles to be found here?"

The four hecking what?

"I'm...afraid I don't even know who dese Apostles are," is all I can tell him.

"Ah, my apologies," he turns to me with a genuinely sorry look, "I sometimes forget most don't know of them."

Okay…? That still tells me nothing.

"At any rate," he gives the shelf one last glance, "I wasn't expecting to find much, anyway," he turns back to me and offers a hand, "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister Eugenio."

Huh...what? Am I supposed to know who the heck this guy is? Why would he want to meet me?

"Have we met before?" I try to ask, "Your name does ring a bell but…"

"You must have heard of me from one of our pair of mutual friends," he chuckles, "I, for my part, have heard of you from Knight-Lieutenant Alois and Miss Rebecca."

Oh...maybe not Rebecca, but it's definitely possible Alois mentioned him and I forgot.

Well, if he's a friend of those two, let's be polite.

"In dat case, a pleasure to meet you as well," I shake his hand, "Aldough I admit I'm surprised by your visit. To what do I owe it?"

"My duties unfortunately often take me away from Garreg Mach, I'm afraid," he replies, "I returned only a couple of days ago and will have to depart again in a few more. But before that, I wanted to meet the new person Alois brought to the Monastery," he shifts to a sympathetic look before continuing, "My sincerest condolences. Being a victim of kidnapping is a horrible experience."

Sounds like Alois took the version I gave Jeralt and ran with it. Good enough for me.

"Yeah," I say, feigning a discomforted tone, "I was lucky he and Caterine found me. No idea what would have happened oderwise," I go with a more cheerful tone for the part after, "You were also lucky to come today. Had you waited tomorrow, you would not have found me."

Confusion comes to his face at my statement, "What do you mean?"

"Tomorrow, I'm leaving with Professor Hanneman and de Blue Lions," I explain, "Alongside helping here, I've also been assisting de Professor. And since apparently dis will be a safe mission..."

"I see," his brow furrows, "But are you capable of defending yourself? It may be a 'safe' mission, but you could still come across danger."

"With armed-to-de-teet Knights coming along, I'm not worried."

At that, Aelfric has one more chuckle.

"Fair enough," he concedes, "Well, it's a shame we won't get the chance to talk again in the next few days, but I'll take the chance today."

I shrug, "Who know? Maybe you'll return to Garreg Mach and we'll get another chance," although for his and everyone else's sake it would be best if I leave as soon as possible.

Aelfric and I chat a little longer after that before going our separate ways.

* * *

Last night, I made sure to go to sleep early, so as to not be late for the meeting with Hanneman and the Lions this morning. And thankfully, I do. Too early, as a matter of fact, if the bells ringing six in the morning are any indication. Two whole hours before the rendezvous. Splendid…

Well, at least this should mean I'll be able to have breakfast before any of the students arrives. Less chance of drawing attention that way. Waiting for everyone at the classroom is gonna be boring, but that's fine by me.

And thankfully I'm right: once I arrive there are a few other workers having breakfast, none of their faces looking familiar to me, but it's otherwise empty.

I enter and go directly to the counter. My 'co-workers' give me some curious looks as I proceed, but thankfully they don't linger too long.

"Well, well, this is a surprise," the voice of none other than Rebecca greets me, "Why up so early, dear?"

"I'm trying to be on time for an appointment wit Professor Hanneman and de Blue Lions," I explain to her, "I'm going to join dem on deir mission."

"Good one," she chuckles, only to stop when she realizes I'm not joining in her amusement, "Wait, you're serious?"

I nod, "De professor said he needed my help for dis trip. I saw no reason to refuse him."

"Hmmm," her face morphs into a more serious expression than I've seen from her so far, "Sounds like that old windbag is getting lazy. Then again he's in his sixties now, correct?"

Huh...how old did the game say Hanneman was again?

"Not yet...I tink."

"Well, in any case, do be careful how much you accommodate him. Today, it's a trip with the students. Tomorrow, it may be his bedroom. If you know what I mean."

And my friends said I was the cynical one. Then again, she doesn't know the full picture, so I guess I can see where she's coming from.

"Duly noted."

"Good," she goes back to her usual smiling self, "Well, at least this trip will open some new horizons for you."

Huh...horizons? What horizons?

"Since, you know…" she winks, "The Blue Lion girls are rather cute..."

As if. While Mercedes _is_ my age, technically, trying to woo a student in general would be bad both morally and from a self-preserving point of view.

"Sorry, I'm not _dat _kind of guy."

"Oho?" she gives me a sly smile, "I see. Well, the most handsome of the boys is the red-headed one, but I don't think he's into guys. The second best is probably the prince, but his station might be a bit of a problem. Perhaps his retainer..."

"Not what I meant!"

Rebecca snickers at that, "Just having some fun here. Don't worry, dear."

God, this woman…

* * *

For the whole duration of my stay at the dining hall, only other workers came to eat. Only other workers that didn't pay me too much mind.

The only exception to that was me briefly crossing paths with Edelgard and Hubert as I was leaving, with the liege paying me no mind while the retainer glared at me so long as I was within his eyesight.

Really charming, hot topic guy.

In any case, I head back to my room, pack my clothes within the bag Hanneman gave me yesterday and then follow his instructions to get straight for the Blue Lions' classroom.

Unsurprisingly enough, I've made it to the place before anyone else, as the empty room demonstrates upon my opening the door.

No idea what time it is now, but considering I haven't heard the bells ring seven, it looks like I'm in for a long wait. Joy…

Well, the good thing about this being a classroom is that there are seats. Seats that are all currently empty. And thus free for me.

I pick the desk closest to the entrance and sit. Now, we wait.

…

I resist it at first. But after a couple of minutes, I find myself swiping my hand over the desk's surface. It's coarse as all wood should be but there's also a smoothness typical of when it has been processed. It's not to the point of furniture from my world, but it isn't too different either.

Not too different from the desks of my own university.

…

It's hard to believe it's been almost three months. Three months here, as far away from my old life as I could have possibly gotten.

And to think that day I thought it would be the start of the semester where I'd clean my act. Oh, how wrong I was.

Wonder how my friends and classmates reacted to the sight of me not showing up. Did they suspect something was up from the start or did they assume I was ill first?

And let's not mention my parents. My parents who thought that would be just another day of their inept son trying to make something out of himself. My parents who thought too highly of me. My parents to whom I didn't return that day.

…

I feel something on my cheek. Something wet sliding on it.

I reach for it with my hand. All I can find on it afterwards is water.

A tear.

Heh, I'm just that kind of pathetic, aren't I? Here I am, crying over something that is still fixable, while there are many here - some much younger than me - who have suffered far more than I (and in some cases still are) and can keep themselves together.

Dorothea, Petra, Dedue, Sylvain, Mercedes, Raphael

The brat…

Hanneman, Catherine, Shamir, Alois.

"Ah," a voice from outside interrupts my musings, "It seems we've arrived before Professor Hanneman."

I recognize that voice. Dimitri.

"But the door's already open, Your Highness," Ashe's voice chimes in.

"Well, come on, let's see who it is!" Annette adds.

I wipe my eyes at hearing that. These kids have had, have and will have their own problems. They don't need to hear my own.

"Mister Eugenio?" Dimitri, who has traded his Academy uniform for gear that resembles that of the Soldier class from the game, asks in surprise, "What are you doing here?"

Besides him, there are also Ashe and Dedue, who are wearing the Fighter class' armor; Felix, who has put on the Myrmidon's class outfit; and Mercedes and Annette, who have donned the robes of the Monk class.

All of them are looking at me with looks of surprise. Except Felix, who has an expression that is something between annoyance and boredom.

Nice to meet you as well, Sasuke.

"Professor Hanneman hasn't informed you?" I ask the students, just to be sure of what they already knew and what not.

Everyone that isn't Felix exchanges a look of confusion with one another. They have no clue, huh?

"Sorry, what was Professor Hanneman supposed to inform us about?"

Whelp, time to crack the news to them.

"I'll be joining you on your mission for dis mont, boys and girls."

Felix's and Dedue's eyes widen at that. Everyone else's jaws also fall.

"I'm sorry, what?"

* * *

Little else of note happens after that. I give those six the rundown, Hanneman arrives not long after and confirms my version and Ingrid comes draggin Sylvain shortly after. Not sure I want to know what the redhead was up to.

After that, Hanneman gives the rundown to Ingrid and Sylvain (both of them wearing the same stuff as Dimitri) as well, the two latecomers have their moment of surprise, Hanneman compiles a few last documents and then we're off to the Monastery's gates.

And waiting for us there, there's a rather large group of Knights, several of which are standing by horses. There's also a couple of carts attached to other horses, although from what I can see inside of them, they seem meant to transport supplies rather than people.

The one person I recognize of this bunch is, of course, the one person that doesn't wear the signature white armor.

"Professor Hanneman. Eugenio," Shamir greets the two of us.

"Hi Shamir," I offer her my hand, which she takes after a moment.

"A good day to you as well," Hanneman greets more formally before turning to the Lions, "Students, allow me to introduce Dame Shamir Nevrand," he gestures at her, "A Knight of Seiros and the leader of our escort."

Back from the rest of the group of Knights, I think I hear some grumbles about having to take orders from 'a Dagdan scum'.

Cry me a river, douchebags.

"Hello," is all the greeting Shamir gives the students, "If all of you are ready, we can move out right now."

None of the students objects to her statement, and so Shamir gives the order to the other Knights. Immediately, Hanneman and the Blue Lions students follow them. I make to do the same, but Shamir gestures for me to wait.

"As you can see, there are going to be several witnesses," she begins, "You and Hanneman are going to need to be _very_ careful if you wish to practice spellcasting."

"I know," I reassure her, "But what we're probably gonna go trough is just de teory of Fire and Wind Magic. I don't tink dat'll draw too much attention."

The archer has no apparent reaction to my words.

"If you say so," is all she comments before nudging back to the convoy, "Let's go before…"

She cuts herself mid-sentence and turns towards the nearby trees, her brow furrowing.

"Shamir?" I ask baffled, "What's wrong?"

She just keeps glaring at the trees. At first, I get the feeling she didn't hear me at all. But then, she snaps out of whatever trance she was in and curtly says, "Nothing. Let's just go."

Nine times out of ten, when someone has a strange reaction and explains it as 'nothing', it's anything but nothing. Of course, since I'm not looking forward to introducing my butt to her boots, I keep that to myself.

What a way to start this trip...

* * *

[Tigress]

_Swing...parry...lunge_

I follow the motion as fast as I think it.

_And now...Wind!_

My off-hand goes to the crystal and it immediately unleashes a Cutting Gale, which severs the tree's branches clean off.

"Bravo!" Lion starts clapping behind me, "You're getting good with that!"

"Shut up," I hiss, "I told you not to disturb me."

"Uhm, that _is_ true. But what else did you tell me?" I hear a snap of fingers, "Oh, that's right! You wanted to know when the others were back. Well, guess what?"

I groan before turning back. Why does she always have to be like th-?

Standing besides her, there are Lynx and Panther.

"Theeey're here!"

I sigh, "Couldn't you just tell me to begin with?"

"And where's the fun in that?"

Face, meet palm.

"Whatever," I turn to the two siblings who straighten up, "Report?"

Panther makes to talk, but Lynx precedes him, "We've got good news and bad news, ma'am. Which do you want to hear first?"

"We don't have time for word plays," I growl at her, "Is the Outworlder out there?"

She takes a step back and her brother comes in between the two of us.

"What she meant to say, Tigress," he starts, "Is that the cardinal's information was accurate. This 'Eugenio' is with the cubs and Essar. They're moving east."

Very good. We will chase them and as soon as he is alone…

"That's the good news," Lynx intervenes from behind Panther.

I quirk an eyebrow, "And the bad?"

Panther sighs, "The Dagdan assassin is with them," he starts rubbing the back of his neck, "And she...well…"

My eyes widen, "You were spotted?!"

Panther raises his hands defensively, "No, no! We stayed out of sight, I swear! It's just…" he hesitates, "She knows someone was watching them."

I clench my fists. Damnation!

"Now, now," Lion unfortunately intervenes, "No need to get so worked up, boys and girls. We will simply proceed with plan B."

"Yes," I sigh, "Because your...Abzu," she even gave it a name, godsdammit, "Isn't as subtle as a boulder to the face."

"Buuuut!" she raises a finger, "Monster attacks _are_ a thing. And what do you think everyone will think when _he_ takes the Outworlder?"

Unfortunately, she does have a point. Which is why I consented to this plan B in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was chapter 13, where Eugenio's trip with the Blue Lions students begins and the mysterious Tigress and her group prepare their next move.
> 
> This chapter was originally supposed to be longer, but I ultimately decided to split it into two. This one with the preparations, and the next one that will have a lot of Eugenio-Blue Lions interactions.
> 
> Once more, thanks to LowerBlack and 16th-Beat for betareading this. Join us at the TreeHouse Discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> See you all next time!


	16. Chapter 14-On The Road

The day proceeds fine for the most part. The marching pace is one I can keep up, thankfully enough, and my asthma has not kicked in yet.

I must say though, after months spent within the walls of Garreg Mach, being finally free to move outside is...well, not inebriating but almost so. No Solon to be wary of, no walking to and from the same bookshelves over and over, no going around the same areas of the Monastery.

Just a chance to move out and observe the nearby surroundings. The clear sky with a few white clouds here and there. The trees with their various shades of green and variously shaped leaves. The refreshing smell of grass.

Of course, I'm not out here to enjoy all this on my own. I'm out with a large group of people and have to adhere to the group's dynamics. That means stopping this march when the Knights command to.

At least it's not all bad, since this is going to be the 'lunch break' for today. Something made evident when some of the Knights start breaking out firewood from one of the caravans, alongside pots and other cooking utensils.

Those of us who are not involved in cooking duties are left to their own devices while we all wait. Most in that group, which includes Shamir, Dimitri, Dedue, Felix, Ingrid and Ashe; opt to take this chance to train, because training and Fire Emblem characters go hand-in-hand.

The very few who don't participate in some kind of workout decide to do some relaxing stuff, like reading books (that were kept God knows where) or just chat amongst themselves. Or, in Sylvain's case, be their usual philandering self and go after one of the female Knights. Bold of him, but I doubt it will go over well.

Strangely enough, while I observe all this happen, Annette and Mercedes are nowhere to be seen. Pretty sure they were still with us when we stopped, so we can't have lost them. Where have they gone?

As for Hanneman…

"Can you spare me a moment, Eugenio?" he asks from behind me, almost making me jump.

"Sure," I instead reply. Not much I can do right now since I'm not a body-builder.

"Good. Follow me, then," he says while waving in the direction he then takes off to, with me right behind.

The mage leads the way to behind one of the carts, away from anyone else's eyes, and behind them there are - to my utter surprise - Annette and Mercedes.

Well, I guess I know where they went. The question is 'why?'

"Thank you for agreeing to this, you two," is the first thing Hanneman tells the girls.

"Of course, Professor!" Annette chirply replies "It's an honor to help!"

Help?

"Indeed," Mercedes giggles before turning to me, "It's nice knowing you're a fellow studious of the mystical arts, Mister Eugenio."

A 'fellow studious…'? No, don't tell me...

"Excuse me a moment, girls," I turn to Hanneman, "Are we seriously doing dis _now_?"

"Of course," he nonchalantly replies, "The sooner the better."

I point upwards to the sky, "In broad daylight?" I then gesture to the other side of the cart, where the Knights are, "Wit _dem_ around?"

"Don't worry, you are not going to practice magic today," he says dismissively, "I just wanted to introduce the three of you to one another."

Good Lord, you really can be an idiot when you want to, don't you?

"When did you even get de time to explain the situation to dem?"

"During today's march."

Oh, great. When all of their classmates could overhear.

My discomfort must show since his next words are, "Don't worry. I made sure we weren't overheard. And neither of them have spoken of this with the others," he turns to them, "Correct?"

"Of course," the two say in almost perfect unison.

And that fills me with confidence. Truly.

"Fine," I groan before addressing the two Lions students, "So what has he told you so far about me?"

"We know that Professor Hanneman has been giving you private lessons on Reason Magic," Annette starts, "So far you've learned Thunder Magic, but the Professor wants to see your affinity for Wind and Fire as well," she raises her hands excitedly, "And lucky for you, that's where Mercie and I excel!"

I applaud how you prepared that little speech, Annette, even though it really wasn't necessary. Hanneman and I already knew about your proficiencies.

"I must admit, I'm a little puzzled, though," Mercedes tilts her head, "Why the need for this secrecy? Would following the Professor's lessons not do?"

Ah...of course she's the actually smart one of the clever duo.

"De lessons are meant for de Academy's overall purpose to make officers out of you," I reply, repeating the one explanation I could come up in case the two asked this question, "My interest is in Reason and Reason alone, witout de added baggage of de Academy's oder requirements. Informal lessons were de only way to go."

"And since I'm not theoretically supposed to give those," Hanneman chimes in, picking up from what I just said, "We need to keep this under wraps. Do you understand?"

"Certainly, Professor!" Annette immediately replies.

"Yes, I do." Mercedes then adds with a slightly worried look on her face, no doubt meaning she isn't fully convinced by our words. Crap.

Well, she's also not arguing our point, so I guess I'll take that. Not like she has enough dots to connect.

"Excellent," Hanneman clasps his hands, either not noticing Mercedes' reaction or ignoring it altogether, "Now, as Eugenio pointed out, with the Knights around our options for practicing in private are rather limited. I would recommend doing that during the evenings. If you're careful, the cover of night should draw less attention to you."

"Sounds good to me," I comment.

"Me too!" Annette adds excitedly. Always the way too chipper one for her own good, isn't she?

"Sure," Mercedes nods, her previous worried expression replaced by a smile.

"Very good," Hanneman then turns back in the camp's direction, "Now, we had better get back before someone comes looking for us," he then turns back once more to the two girls, "Eugenio and I will go first. You two wait a moment and then come as well."

Both of them nod to that and then he and I walk away.

Well, this sure didn't start as subtly as I had hoped. Or even as flawlessly, given Mercedes' reaction. Here's to hoping it will go more smoothly for the rest of this trip.

* * *

One thing I was curious about was how meals would be organized. Would there only be seasoned rations that could be eaten whenever or would there be something cooked for the occasion? And now I've found out it's the latter, as a couple of Knights are going to serve a stew for us all.

Everyone forms a line and one by one are served their lunch, with the students and Hanneman being allowed to go first.

Shamir, strangely enough, stays apart from everyone else with her arms crossed and her eyes laser-focused on the moving line, letting all of her fellow Knights go first.

Considering what Shamir is like, it would probably be best to let her do her, but since I can't help being nosy sometimes, I do the less wise thing: approach her and ask, "Are you not hungry, Shamir?"

"I am," she replies, "I'm just waiting to go last."

Last? "Why would you want dat?"

"Last means I have no one to watch out for behind me."

"Seriously? Don't you tink you're being exaggerated wit dat?"

'Edgy' is probably more accurate, but maybe it's best not to start that debate.

My question gets her to turn her gaze to me, "Have you heard what they say when they think I'm not listening?" I nod, "Would you feel safe having people who think of you that way behind you?"

….okay, she got me.

She turns back to the line, "You are not the only one here who is trying to watch out for themselves around here. You can try to pass for one of the locals. I prefer not to rely on such pitiful charades."

"...pitiful?" I ask, rattled.

She turns back to me, "You can keep telling yourself the Varholm cover will work indefinitely. But mark my words: it is only a matter of time before someone figures out the truth."

I make to rebuke that point, but the words die in my throat before I can voice them, my thoughts going to Petra and Leonie.

Shamir quirks an eyebrow, "It's already happened, hasn't it?"

I'm that easy to read, huh?

"Yes," I groan, "I managed to avoid a fallout, but a couple of students saw trough de cover."

"They won't be the last," Shamir replies, "And a fallout will come, sooner or later."

"I won't let it," I declare, to which Shamir furrows her brow.

"Why even bother trying to prevent it?"

Because I...I...I…

"I have my reasons," is all I can tell her.

At my answer, Shamir scoffs and turns back to the line, "Suit yourself."

Nice going me.

"Very well," I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck, "I'll leave you to your waiting. Just don't expect much more dan scraps."

"I grew on scraps back in my homeland. I'll manage."

Alright. If you want to be difficult, go right ahead. I'm gonna have a regular dinner, instead.

* * *

"Crap."

And for the third - or fourth? I'm starting to get confused - time tonight, my poor excuse for a tent falls apart.

Once we all were finished with lunch, we got moving again shortly after, setting the same pace as before. But upon the start of sunset, the Knights decided it was enough for the day and we started setting up camp.

The Knights also gave everyone tents and Shamir was gracious enough to give instructions on how to set them up to everyone who wasn't experienced with it. Myself included.

Too bad actually doing it is proving to be my nemesis for this travel.

"Do you need help?"

I turn in the direction of the one who asked that and am met by the sight of none other than Dedue observing me impassively.

"Ah, no, don't worry, boy," I wave at him, "I'll get it right."

I've got to. I can't exactly afford to stand out as 'the one guy who can't set up a tent and needs to rely on someone else to do it for him'. And I'm not crazy enough to sleep in the open.

Despite my words, however, Dedue doesn't leave me and remains where he is. Either he really wants to watch me trying this, or he wants something with me. And if it's the latter, I have a vague idea of what that could be.

Well, hang tight, my boy. This could take a while.

I make one more attempt at setting the tent up. I make sure to plant the poles sustaining the fabric and I tie them to the pegs, just like Shamir said. But unfortunately, the moment it seems it might remain standing, it falls apart yet again.

Fourth failed attempt. Or fifth. Or sixth. Or whatever.

"What is it I'm doing wrong?" I groan.

"The knots."

At that statement, all I can do is turn back to the Duscur giant, "Sorry, what?"

"The knots you are tying are not adequate for your tent's structural integrity," Dedue explains calmly, "You will need a more flexible type for it to work."

Uh…

"Can you...show me?"

Dedue nods, "Of course."

The boy then kneels besides me and demonstrates to me a knot he calls 'the Taut-line hitch', apparently a favourite of the Kingdom's when it comes to setting up tents. No idea what it's called on Earth (if it even exists), but I sure as hell will have to remember it from now on.

"Do you see?" Dedue asks as he demonstrates the tent's newfound stability.

"I do," I confirm, "Tank you. And sorry for de trouble."

Dedue shakes his head, "It is no trouble. These kinds of mistakes are common for beginners."

It's that obvious, huh?

"Well, still tank you," I tell him, "Anyting I can help you wit in return?"

Dedue pauses for a moment before replying, "There is something I would like to ask you. Something that I've been curious about for some time."

Oh boy, it's the 'you're a fellow foreigner, aren't you?' question, isn't it? Well, better get this out of the way while it's just the two of us.

"Ask away."

"His Highness explained to me that the way you talk is because of an Alliance dialect," he says, "A dialect that left you talking with your accent."

When he doesn't continue, I take the chance to intervene, "And let me guess: you tink he's wrong."

"I do not think his assumptions are baseless," he precises, "But I also do not believe a dialect would leave such an evident accent."

"Because of your own struggles learning Fódlanese?" I inquire, mostly to finally have a confirmation that's why non-natives can tell the fakeness of that story.

Dedue slightly furrows his brow at my words, "Fódlanese?"

"You know, de language spoken by de natives?"

At that, his face immediately returns to normal, "It's called Adrestian common."

Goddammit Adrestia, Seiros or whoever else is responsible for calling the language that…

"Eider way," I sigh, "Yes, I'm also a foreigner and I'm pretending to be a local."

Dedue has no apparent reaction to my statement, outside of him asking "Why?"

"Dat's between me and de Church," I try to reassure him, "If you're worried about your liege, don't be. Dis has noting to do wit him and Faerghus. I would just ask you not to divulge dis fact wit your classmates."

"Very well," he concedes almost immediately.

I nod, "Good."

The conversation falls into silence after that exchange, with Dedue and I just looking at each other in the eye.

With his impassive expression, I can't tell what's going through the head of the giant of Duscur. He could be trying to discern where I'm from. He could be musing over my words. Heck, he could even just be waiting for me to say something.

"Anyting else you wanted to know?" I try to ask.

He shakes his head, "No."

Silence again.

"So...why are we playing Pretty Statues again?"

That gets a wince out of him, "Pretty...statues?"

"An idiom from my homeland," I explain, "It means standing still witout doing anyting. Like, you know, statues?"

His confused expression doesn't waver.

"Whatever," I dismiss, "If dere's noting else, I'll see you at dinner."

He nods to that, says "Understood," and then walks away.

Well, that could have gone worse. At least now that he knows I'm a fellow foreigner and that the Church already has their eyes on me, it'll be one less headache for me to keep the 'from Italy' stuff from everyone else.

And thank God Dedue is not Frederick the Wary.

* * *

After having dinner and spending some time with Shamir, I make my way through the maze of tents to reach the shared by Mercedes and Annette for this trip (because yes, those two managed to get a shared tent somehow), making sure no one is looking at me as I do that.

When I'm sure no one's looking (at least, as far as I can see), I tap on the tent's curtains, "May I come in?"

"Enter," Mercedes' voice answers.

Without missing a beat, I do just that.

The interior of the tent is...well, as sparse as one would expect from a tent. The two girls' packs are resting in the corners and their bedrolls aren't out yet. At most, there are a few books laying around.

As for the two girls, they are sitting next to each other, with Mercedes offering Annette...are those pastries?

"Ah, welcome, Mister Eugenio," Mercedes says while Annette hurries to finish the pastry she was halfway-through eating.

"Tank you," I eye the ginger girl, "Did I come too early?"

"No, no," Annette replies as she swallows the last crumbs, "We just weren't expecting you so soon. We thought you'd be with Dame Shamir."

"Well, we had an arrangement for dis," I reply as I sit next to them, "Dis is more work for de two of you, so I tought it best not to keep you waiting."

"Oh?" is Mercedes' reply, "I thought you and Dame Shamir were...well, close."

"We know each oder and we hang togeder sometimes," I admit, "but 'close' is...debatable. Neider of us is exactly de most out-going of people."

At that, the two share a knowing look. A knowing look I'm afraid I know what it is.

"No, we're not a couple. No, I'm not attracted to her," now that I've actually met her at least, "And no, I'm not her type," her type is tall, tanned and blonde after all.

What even is with people pairing me with others lately?

"Sure, sure," Mercedes giggles, Annette joining in on it.

Oh, yeah? Well you asked for it, girls.

"In dat case, what about you two?" I counter, "Not afraid of what your classmates will tink?"

Mercedes immediately pales. Annette, on the other hand, looks at me quizzically, "What do you mean?"

Oh, you're about to have your innocence ruined, kid.

"You share a tent," I gesture around, "You're often wit each oder and, from what I've been told, you've known each oder for a while," I cross my arms and smirk at Annette, "What should I tink of dat?"

The speed with which she goes from pale to tomato-red at hearing my question is one of the most hilarious things I've ever seen.

"Ah, well…" she laughs nervously, "It's...not like that. We're just good friends. Right, Mercie?"

"Yes," Mercedes laughs as nervously, "Just friends."

Yeah, friends that today share sweets but tomorrow will share smooches. Well, unless that honor will go to another of their classmates.

Or to an early grave since this is Verdant Wind.

...moving on.

"Eider way, I tink it's time we get down to business," I intervene, "Where do we start?"

* * *

By the third day of marching, we came upon a large body of water that flows eastwards. A large body of water that the Knights confirmed for us was Airmid (thank you Faerghus citizens for living far away from it).

And when I say 'large' I _mean_ 'large'. Between the river bank we're on and the other one, there is a gap of several meters, with the water going at such a speed only a madman would dare swim through it. And according to Hanneman and Shamir, while the river flows less intensely the further away it goes from the Oghma Mountains, it also gets larger until it reaches Fódlan's Throat.

No wonder a massive bridge had to be built for trade between Empire and Alliance. Or why that same bridge becomes so important during the war phase.

And speaking of that bridge, it will take us about two more days before we reach Myrddin, the valley the bridge takes the name from. While we do arrive near the bridge, we don't get on it properly, because as it turns out, the wagons with the supplies we came for were just waiting for us not far from it.

When we reach them, the first thing Shamir does is call the Knights watching over the wagons and order a report. And by the sound of it, it's gonna be a lot of bureaucratic talks for now. A joy for her, I'm sure.

While that is going on, my attention drifts to the actual bridge. A 'marvel of craftsmanship' some were calling it during our march. And honestly, considering what kind of time period this setting is based on, they aren't entirely wrong. While it's not as elaborated as some modern-day bridges across the world, the sheer size of it is nothing to scoff at. With the best means of transportation for the materials being horses and the lack of cranes to do the heavy lifting, it must have taken decades for it to be made. Heck, it wouldn't surprise me if it took centuries.

Of course, whatever the reason for it to be built, there are fortifications all over it. Fortifications that in five years from now will be used by the Empire's forces invading Leicester,forces lead by Edelgard in her war against the Crest system. The same war in which Dimitri will lead these teens to their deaths.

…

"It's impressive, isn't it?" the voice of Dimitri stirs me away from my thoughts, "Your countrymen's skills are truly remarkable to have built something so complex."

Sounds like it's time for me to pull out the 'Eugenio from Varholm' act.

"It is," I reply, looking at him with my best fake smile, "I may not be from dis area of de Alliance, but it's a symbol of pride for all people of Leicester."

At least, I hope that's the case. I don't really know how the general populace feels about it, but if it really is all Alliance-made, it should be something to be proud of.

"It shames me to admit it, but I don't know much about the bridge's realization," Dimitri continues, "Do you know how long it took for it to be built?"

Oh no! What do I tell him now?!

Okay, let's not panic. Dimitri is not as exploitative as Edelgard and Claude. No doubt his is genuine curiosity.

"I don't really know myself," I answer shaking my head, "I have always been bad wit dates. I don't really remember when work on it started nor when it ended."

"Ah," is Dimitri's disappointed reply, "Well, that is a shame. I suppose I will have to check the library when I have the time."

Yeah, you do that, boy scout.

Dimitri doesn't say anything else after that and just keeps looking at the bridge. Considering how earnest he is at this point in time, if his bodyguard had told him about my foreign origins, he'd no doubt be questioning my secrecy.

The fact that he isn't must mean Dedue is letting that sleeping dog rest. Thanks, big guy.

He only speaks again when the Knights start moving out again, "I believe Dame Shamir is finished. Are you ready to get moving again?"

I give the bridge one last glance before nodding to him, "Of course."

* * *

"Let's try one more time," Mercedes encourages me, "You are close to doing it. I know it."

If you say so, anime mom.

"Very well," I sigh as I start gathering the magical energies inside me again, "Just be ready to intervene if dis goes wrong again."

Both of them reply affirmatively and I then raise my hands and proceed to pour the required magic for Fire in the air passing through them.

During this trip, I've learned two things about my capabilities with spellcasting. The first is that I can safely use Wind Magic, but not as well as Thunder. Despite me following the formulae required to conjure Wind, the end results so far have been less satisfying, with my control over the spell being weaker, the output less potent when compared to Thunder, and an overall less optimal conjuring time.

Annette reassures me that none of those are by much and that with more training I could learn more advanced spells as well, but the evidence is clear: my affinity for Wind Magic is weaker compared to the one for Thunder.

The second thing is a more embarrassing one: I suck ass at Fire Magic. Despite my best efforts, despite following the instructions to conjure Fire to the letter, I could never conjure the intended fireball.

Mercedes had suggested trying to pour slightly more power than what I was. It backfired. Hard. I can only thank whatever God is responsible for the girls being there and wrestling control of the flames out of me or all three of us would be charred corpses right now.

Ok, let's try this again. Focus on the air. Set it ablaze. Focus. Cont-

"Shit!"

The fireball is conjured. The problem is, I can't stop the bursts of fire it's letting out left and right!

"Watch out!" I warn the two.

Both of them respond swiftly: Annette uses her Wind Magic to draw the air away from the bursts, preventing anything from catching fire, while Mercedes uses her control over Fire Magic to protect the two of them.

While this goes on, however, I can feel my grasp over the fireball in my palms starting to slip, with more and more bursts coming out.

"A little help here!"

"On it!"

Before the fireball blows up in my face, I feel Mercedes' attempt to seize control over the spell. It's a sensation similar to an object being pulled by you in one direction and another in the opposite. The exception being that in this particular circumstance I let the other take it.

As that happens, the fireball passes from my hands to Mercedes', who, with a mastery I'm years away from, immediately dispels it.

"Tank you," I sigh in relief.

"Don't mention it," she lightheartedly replies with a smile.

"Aww, you were so close to getting it this time," Annette intervenes, "How about another try?"

Ohohoh, no.

"I tink not, all we've got so far have been eider failures or prevented arson. I tink it's best we stop _now_, before any of us gets hurt."

"But you can't give up now!" Annette protests, "We have to keep at it until you can cast Fire!"

"And how many attempts will dat take?" I rebuke, "How many incidents are we going to risk before we come to de obvious conclusion: I can't do Fire Magic."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Mercedes intervenes, a pensive look in her eyes, "Although…"

Although?

"This might seem like an odd question," she continues, "But have you been involved in...incidents regarding a fire at any point of your life?"

"What exactly do you mean?" and where the heck is this coming from?

"Well…" Mercedes ponders. "In recent years, there has been a study in regards to people practicing Black Magic. Those who suffered incidents related to the elements in their youth, later down the line developed… issues practicing magic related to that element."

"As in…" I try to continue, "Deir subconscious prevents dem from conjuring dat kind of magic?"

Mercedes nods, "Precisely."

Ooooh...so it's possible my problems with Fire Magic stem from an incident I may have experienced when I was younger.

But what kind of incident? The closest I've ever been to a fire is when an apartment in the building next to mine caught fire, but I was nowhere near the actual fire. So what else could it be?

...actually there is something. It was when I was...ten? Twelve? I don't remember. I don't even remember what the circumstances were. But I do remember the event.

"I tink you are onto someting," I tell Mercedes, "Dere is one event dat could qualify. It's just…" I trail off.

"You don't have to share if you don't want to," Mercedes reassures me.

"No, it's not dat," I tell her, "I don't have a problem sharing it. It's just a little embarrassing at worst. And I'm not even sure if it counts."

Both girls look at me expectantly after those words. Okay, here I come.

"I don't remember de specific details, but one day I was trying to snuff out a candle. I got my mout too close to de flame and," I tap my lower lip, "I got burned here."

The two of them widen their eyes at that.

"I got it looked over almost immediately and it healed witout leaving a scar, dough. So I don't know if it counts."

Annette looks at her older friend, who has now furrowed her brow.

"Were you ever...comfortable being near flames after that?"

"...no," I admit.

And it's true. Now that I think about it, whenever I was anywhere a flame of any kind after that day, I felt...uncomfortable is the best way I can describe it. Not frozen in fear or having flashbacks or whatever. Just...uncomfortable.

"Then it does count," an apologetic look comes to Mercedes' face, "I'm sorry for not realizing it sooner."

"It's okay," I reassure, "You had no way of knowing dis beforehand and I din't tink it would be relevant. At least now we know Fire is a no-go for me."

"Not true," Annette intervenes, "If you keep at it, I'm sure you'll…"

"Nah, not wort it," I cut her off, "Dis was all to see how my affinities to de branches of Reason were, remember? Now we know."

Besides, so long as I can cast Thunder, I don't really mind if I'm psychologically locked from using Fire or whatever.

Annette's face falls at that and Mercedes quickly proceeds to rub the back of her head, which quickly prompts some cheer to return to the ginger girl.

"Wit dat said, I tink it's time we all retire for de night," I continue, "I suspect Shamir will want us to make good time, considering how close we are to de Monastery."

"That's true," Mercedes closes her eyes and gives one her signature sweet smiles, "In that case, good night."

"Tank you," I wave at the two, "Good night to you too."

I walk out of the two's tent after that and head for mine. Halfway through, however, a thought hits me.

I shared with the two an event from my life on Earth. Something I've been trying to avoid for the most part with everyone.

Was it a good idea? Probably not. But this time it was more useful than coming up with another cover for this side of me. And at least it was something that could have happened to anyone else. Even here in this land.

Still, I shouldn't get so lax on such matters. And I definitely won't again.

* * *

By the ninth day, we've almost made it back to Garreg Mach. And according to Shamir's estimates, we'll arrive around tomorrow evening.

I'll admit, studying magic with Annette and Mercedes has been fun. But being in full cautious mode around everyone all the time? Not so much. If Hanneman asks me to come along on another mission, I think I'll just refuse.

And at least it'll be nice to be around Catherine and Alois again. The former is probably going to be either bored out of her mind or worried about confronting Lonato. Or both. And Alois will no doubt want to tell us how the mission with the Deers went. At least that way I'll know everything has been going according to the plo-

_WHOOSH_

The hell…?

The sudden sound stirs the attention of all the Knights within the convoy immediately. The horses panic because of it, their riders struggling to keep them in check.

"Did you hear that?"

"What was it?"

"Where did it come from?"

"Rockslide!"

At hearing Shamir's warning, everyone turns in the direction she's looking at, right near the top of one of the mountains, where...a bunch of boulders are…

Oh fuck!

"Scatter!"

Don't have to tell me twice, Shamir!

My first instinct is to follow the Knights running forward. However, Shamir grabbing me by a shoulder prevents me from doing it.

"Back!" she shouts, "Blue Lions, get back!"

I find myself being dragged back by the blue-haired archer, at first. But when the first of the boulders hits the ground in front of my eyes, I turn the other way, break free from her grip and run.

And from there, running is all I keep doing.

When I hear more boulders hitting the ground, I don't turn back.

When I pass by one of the students, I barely acknowledge it.

When I accidentally kick something, I ignore the aching in my foot.

I just run. And run. And run until my asthma kicks in.

At that point, I have no choice but to stop and double over to cough. With that, plus my heart reduced to a beating mess and my shaky legs, I half-expect the coming wave of rocks to reach and swallow me.

To my surprise, however, that doesn't happen. As I spend more and more time coughing, nothing really happens. In fact, everything has gone rather quiet, save for my coughing fit.

"There you are!"

I jump at hearing Shamir's words, my heart almost jumping out of my throat. At least seeing her safe and sound is a sight for sore eyes. Well, maybe not entirely 'sound', given her hair is a disheveled mess and her jacket is now covered by dust and has a few tears that weren't there before. No other noticeable damage besides that, though.

"What…?" I wheeze between coughs, "Happened…?"

"The rockslide is over," she answers, although there's a wary tone to her words, "We managed to outrun it."

That...can't be right.

"When you've caught your breath, go find everyone else who made it and bring them here. We need to regroup."

She sprints away after that, leaving me to my coughing fit.

* * *

By the time I recovered from my asthma, Shamir had already sent most my way, leading to me having to do little in terms of finding the others 'who made it'.

Who exactly makes for our little group, however, is a bit ironic: all of the Blue Lions students, Hanneman, Shamir and me. No one else. Not one of the other Knights.

The powers above sure have a wicked sense of humor.

After regrouping, Shamir leads us back to where we were when the rocks started falling. We find some pebbles along the way, but none of the huge ones.

Those are reserved for where we were standing when this mess began.

"By the Goddess…" a few from the group mutter.

The boulders somehow managed to hit only this specific area of the path, with no sign of them falling further apart than that. Strangely convenient for those trying to run to safety. At least, if it weren't for the rubble blocking the path.

"Hello?!" a man's voice shouts from the other side of the rubble, "Is anyone there?!"

"I'm here, Santos!" Shamir shouts back, "The students, their professor and his assistant are with me! What's the situation on your end?!"

"Everyone else is here, Dame Shamir!" 'Santos' immediately answers, "A few twisted their ankles, but no one dead!"

Shamir takes a moment to examine the rubble before continuing her discussion.

"Can any on your end clear this mess?!"

'Santos' takes a moment himself before answering, "No can do! With what we have right now it would take days to clear the road!"

A snarl briefly comes to Shamir's face, "Then go ahead! We will take the other road and meet you at Garreg Mach!"

"Understood!"

After that exchange, Shamir turns back to us.

"There is another road we can traverse?" Dimitri asks on behalf of everyone else.

"Yes," Shamir replies, "It's longer, but it's the only one we can currently traverse. And we need to get back to the Monastery before we're ambushed."

"Ambushed?" a bewildered Hanneman asks, the rest of us pretty much having the same reaction, "What do you…?"

"This," Shamir cuts him off as she points at the rubble behind her, "Was not an accident. That sound we heard right before the rockslide must have caused it somehow," she narrows her eyes, "Someone has been following us. The same someone who caused this."

Ashe, Hanneman, Annette, Mercedes and Sylvain wince at her words. Felix narrows his eyes. Dedue and Ingrid step closer to Dimitri, who has also tensed. And I feel the beating of my heart quicken considerably.

"I have no idea if their intent was to kill someone or just split the convoy apart," Shamir continues, "But you can be sure we haven't seen the last of them yet. And we are _not_ waiting for them here," she nudges in the direction of the trees, "Get moving. And keep a weapon close at hand."

Everyone nods solemnly at her words. Hanneman then takes the lead of the group and starts directing the students.

Meanwhile, I stay back with Shamir.

"What you noticed when we departed," I start as the memory comes back to me, "It was dese pursuers, wasn't it?"

She nods, "I wasn't certain there was actually some_one_. And when I never noticed them again during our trip, I had begun thinking I'd imagined it. Until now."

Oh, you've got to be kidding!

"And didn't you tink it would be a good idea to warn someone about potential pursuers _beforehand_?" I snarl.

"_When_ I knew it was pursuers, yes," she snarls back, "But there was nothing to suggest they were."

"Yeah? Well, you really did your old profession justice," I reply drily, "De point of being an assassin is not being noticed and…"

"Do not think to tell me what an assassin is supposed to do," she cuts me off, "I know how they operate. And unlike you, I know how to see through their methods."

"Yeah, you really showed us," I gesture at the rubble, "It's a miracle no one has died."

"Uhm, excuse me?"

"What?!" both of us snap at the newcomer, who turns out to be Mercedes.

If she is affected by our reply, she doesn't show it, "Professor Hanneman is worried about the two of you. You are being left behind."

Shamir and I exchange one last glare.

Of the two, she is the first to break the ice, "We still have a job to do. We'll talk more later. Until then, try to keep that temper of yours in check."

"...fine," I snort.

We then follow Mercedes back to the group.

* * *

[Tigress]

I sheathe my sword when the boulders start rolling down, its magic no longer required.

As expected, the sonic boom alerted the Knights of what was happening, giving them the chance to move out of the way. And just as planned, the tail of the convoy is cut off from the rest in the process.

The very same tail where the Outworlder is.

As the dust settles, I slowly start to see who else made it with him: one by one, all of the cubs come into vision, alongside their instructor.

Unfortunately, the assassin has also ended up with them.

That is unfortunate, but at least the only ones that will be able to back her up will be one mage and eight green children.

"Well, will you look at that?" Lynx comments after the two parties start marching in opposite directions, "It worked."

"That it did," I confirm.

"Still a miracle nobody died," Panther argues, "Couldn't we use something less risky?"

"You wanna go down there and see how well that would've worked out, be my guest, bro."

"Codenames," I chastise Cheetah, "No mention of family relations."

"Yeah, like it'll make a difference," he scoffs.

"We still don't know the identity of Thales' moles," I warn, "If they were to learn three of us are siblings and word of that reached Chilon, what do you think would happen?"

That, thankfully, manages to shut him up.

"Ahem," Panther intervenes, "So...what's next?"

"We regroup with Lion," I say, "But if the Outworlder and the others reach her before we do, she has orders to set her creature loose."

And hopefully not give us away. Should the Church learn what that aberration is, it will land all of us into trouble.

My attention is drawn away from those thoughts when I hear snickers coming from Cheetah.

"What?"

"Remember how you said her pet was subtle as a boulder?" I nod, "Did that give you the idea to separate the Knights like this?"

He's lucky he's good at what he does. Otherwise I could toss him off this cliff right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand chapter! Not a lot has really happened here, but be prepared for the next two chapters, guys. Quite a lot is going to happen in them.
> 
> As always, thanks to LowerBlack and 16th-Beat for betareading. Join us at the TreeHouse Discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> Until next times, folks!


	17. Chapter 15-Dreadful Roars

[Lion]

_Wolves asleep amidst the trees_

_Bats all a-swaying in the breeze_

Abzu utters a small, barely audible disapproving snort at me singing a lullaby in the middle of the day.

"Oh, I know it's not appropriate, my dear," I rub the side of his neck, a motion he always purrs at.

This part of the mission so far has been an utter bore. Just wait and wait and wait and wait...I swear it would have been better if I had been with Tigress and the others and let Abzu do his part there and then.

"_Don't even think about it,_" Tigress had said, "_That would draw too much attention,_" she said.

Well, whatever, at least this way I didn't have to gather the boulders.

At my side, Abzu huffs.

"I know, I know," I reassure him, "Unfortunately, we're part of a team now. And that means we can't have things go our way all the time."

A low, guttural growl is his reply.

"Oh, don't worry. Tigress barks, but she doesn't bite," I chuckle, "And even if she did, I'm sure the Master would give her an earful. And you know the others don't feel the same as her."

At those words, his gleaming red eye focuses on me.

"Come on, you've seen how they are. Panther and Lynx are just being shy. And insults are the only way Cheetah expresses affection to everyone in the first place."

He snorts dismissively to that. Ah well, they'll grow on him eventually.

Before our conversation can continue, Abzu tenses. His serpentine neck raises as he glares at something in the distance, hissing at it warily.

I turn in the same direction as him and see what caught his attention.

Coming out of the woods and going through the clearing right below us, is the part of the convoy that has been cut off by the others. I was expecting it to be a mixture of Knights and students, but to my surprise, the ones I can see are all of the cubs and their teacher. The only Knight I can spot is the 'Dagdan assassin', as Panther called her.

And of course, there is also our objective: the Outworlder. Or rather 'Eugenio' as it seems he's called.

Well, well, this might be easier than anticipated. Arrows are normally not good for wings, but Abzu's are special. The cubs are all novices who pose little to no threat. Essar should be the only other one actually problematic.

Well, maybe a bit also the princeling, considering the power of the Crest of Blaiddyd. Still, only two people are better than I was expecting.

"Ooookay," I raise back on my feet and turn back to Abzu, "Looks like it's show time, my dear. Ready?"

He excitedly spreads his wings in response.

"Excellent," I clap my hands and smile at him, "Remember not to kill anyone if possible, get the Outworlder and tonight you are free to go bear-hunting."

I see saliva forming at the angle of his maw. How adorable.

"Good boy," I chuckle as I pat his side, "Then go make mommy proud."

He takes off right away.

* * *

[Eugenio]

The air among the students is much more tense now than it was earlier. Gloomy expressions adorn the faces of almost every member of the group; everyone who carries physical weapons hold them tightly. We're proceeding at a much faster pace than before as well.

That last part, unfortunately, is proving to be a problem for me, since the faster pace means I have to stop every now and then to catch my breath. But with someone targeting us, those stops have to be so brief it's almost like I don't get them.

Goddammit, Shamir, you are supposed to be smart! When there's danger, you're supposed to notice it! How could you do such a stupid oversight?!

"Come on, keep going."

And speaking of said archer…

"I'm doing...my best," I breathe, "It's not easy...wit lungs like mine."

"You should have thought about that when you decided to come along."

I turn to glare at her, "Oh, so now...it's _my_ fault? Should I remind you...dis was supposed to be...an easy mission? And also...who's responsible...for us being...in dis mess?"

She glares back, "Be that as it may, all your complaining will not get us any more out of this mess."

"Den tell me," I snap, "Why should I...not complain?! Why should I...not be angry...at dis situation?! Why should I…?"

I fail to finish that train of thought, as raising my voice like that forces me to start coughing.

"Are you entitled to being angry? Yes," she hisses while I do that, "Is that an excuse to slow us down and let whoever these attackers are catch up to us? No."

With my unsteady breathing, glaring at her is the only thing I can do.

"Ahem," Hanneman, who I had not realized had snuck up on us, interrupts, "As… illuminating as this debate is, I'm afraid I need to interrupt it," he turns to me, "I would like to exchange a few words with you, Eugenio," he turns to Shamir, "And Prince Dimitri would like to exchange a few with you, Dame Shamir."

The archer snorts and goes to the blonde boy. Good riddance to you as well, blue.

I take a couple of deep breaths before addressing Hanneman, "What is it, Professor?"

"I realize this is more than what you had originally signed up for," no shit, Sherlock, "How are you doing?"

"How do you tink?" I snort, "De 'safe travel' I was expecting almost got me crushed by rocks, I learned we are being chased and I'm trying to keep pace wit a bunch of people who don't have my problematic lungs."

"And top it all off, we could have avoided all dis if _someone_," I glare towards Shamir, "Had said _someting_."

"Yes, well," he clears his throat, "If I may, I have something I wish to say about that."

I arch an eyebrow, "What?"

"Despite the error of not mentioning we were being followed, Dame Shamir is not a novice at travelling with large convoys or dealing with ill-meaning crowds. Do you think she would purposefully have chosen a course of action that would put everyone in danger?"

"Dat's not de point," I scoff, "De point is dat we're all now paying because of her mistake. A mistake you yourself just admitted she did."

He sighs before continuing, "True, she made an error in judgement and underestimated the threat. But mistakes happen. And besides," he glances in her direction, "Do you think she's not as angry about all of this as you are?"

"_Good. That means she _knows _she screwed up,_" is the reply I originally plan on telling him.

Unfortunately, before I can do that, our conversation is interrupted by a sound. Not the same one as before, but one that is just as strange, if not more. It sounds like something in between the trumpeting of an elephant, an explosion and...a roar?

I look around in hopes of seeing what the hell made that sound, but find nothing. All living beings I can see around our group are plants. No sign whatsoever of whatever made that sound.

"Everyone by my side," I hear Shamir order as she gestures to go to her. Something the others quickly comply to do. It takes a moment for me, but I also follow her command.

After doing that, we form a circle, with the melee fighters taking combat stances and making for the outer ring, while the rest of us make an inner ring, with Shamir and Ashe ready to nock arrows and Hanneman, Annette and Mercedes keeping their hands raised and prepared to cast spells.

And me. The one buffoon who can't do anything if whatever made that noise attacks us.

"If I may ask, Dame Shamir," Ingrid says after a bit, "Are there nests of wild wyverns nearby?"

Wild wyverns? Oh God, no!

"Not in this area," the archer replies "And the ones of these mountains don't make noises like that."

That's really comforting to hear.

The sound comes again, this time closer than before. But again, there's no sign of any creature around us. None that could have made that sound, at least.

"What the…?"

Turning to Shamir, I see her glancing upwards. So do Hanneman and a few of the students that had also turned to her.

What exactly are they all-

Far above in the sky, there is...something flying in circles above us. I can't tell what exactly it is, only that it's a winged figure with a wingspan about as wide as its lean body is long.

No wait, that's not entirely true. It's also wagging a long tail.

A noticeable tail, wings, roars…

"Uh…" Sylvain intervenes, "Didn't you just say there aren't wyverns in this area, Dame Shamir?"

Shamir furrows her brow at the creature, "There shouldn't be."

Right as she says that, the thing breaks its looping trajectory, makes a couple of turns left and right and then points at…at...

"It…" Annette shakily says, "It isn't...diving towards us, is it?"

The thing doesn't deviate from its course. If anything, it seems to accelerate.

"I…" Ashe responds just as nervously, "I think it is."

"Move! Get out of the way!"

No one protests Shamir's orders. As whatever the thing is gets closer and closer, we all run away from where we were standing. And judging by the strong gust of wind I feel from behind me, we were not a moment too soon.

At the sounds of something heavy hitting the ground, I can't help turning back. What I see makes my blood run cold.

The guess that it was a wyvern wasn't entirely wrong. The thing standing in front of us has the trademark features of one: a pair of hind legs with claws on each finger, huge bat-like wings instead of arms, a long tail, a serpentine neck that ends in an elongated head with antlers and sharp teeth.

But what makes it clear what this is, what terrifies me, are three things: the fact that it's much bigger than a normal wyvern should be, the pitch-black fleshy-looking substance that replaces the scales reptiles should have and the baleful, glowing red lights that make for its eyes.

One of these things is supposed to be a challenge for Byleth's class combined when they have three more months of training on their back! This isn't a wyvern. It's a Demonic Beast! We are out of our goddamn league right now!

"Back into the woods!" I hear Hanneman shout, "Fall back! We can't fight this creature!"

"I'll cover you, run!" I hear Shamir add.

No need to tell me twice!

Without wasting a second, I turn back to the woods and make a rush for it. I see Hanneman and the others do the same.

Not sure how much good hiding will do to us, though. If Demonic Beasts are as unrelenting as the game made them out to be, it won't go away until we come out. And that's assuming it doesn't just decide to tear the trees apart its-

"Look out!" comes Shamir's warning.

Before anyone can reach the woods, a gust of black and purple fire falls down from the sky and forms a wall of flames between us and the trees, forcing everyone to stop in their rush.

Turning in the direction where the fire is falling down from, it turns out it's coming from the demonic wyvern's mouth, which apparently took to the air again while we weren't looking.

"Oh, brutto figlio di puttana..." are the words I instinctively utter. Italian words, I realize to my own detriment.

"I'm sorry, what?" Dimitri, who was standing right next to me and now is looking at me confusedly, asks.

Fucking...

Before that little conversation can go further, our attention is drawn back to the beast upon hearing it roar again. And this time, not only is the motherfucker diving towards the group again, but its talons are outstretched at Dimitri and…

I gulp at the sight of them. I should duck. I should run away. I should do anything but staying exactly where I am.

But as the demonic wyvern gets closer and closer, I find myself unable to do anything else.

"Move!"

Before the monster skewers me with its hooks, I feel Dimitri tackle me, the two of us both falling to the ground. The spawn of hell, with the two of us out of its original trajectory, flies over harmlessly, its paws staying empty.

"Are you alright?" the prince asks me after that.

"...tank you," is all I can tell him, "I tought I was doomed."

He smiles at me, "Don't mention it."

"It's coming back!" I hear Hanneman shout.

And true to his word, the flying demon circles back and comes in for another dive, talons outstretched again.

"Everyone scatter!"

* * *

[Lion]

"Oh, come on, princeling," I sigh as the future king tackles the Outworlder.

Had he not done that we could have resolved this then and there. But now, Abzu will have to make dives again and again until he tires them out and he can make another attempt to grab the Outworlder.

Well, at least the only means of escape the cubs had has been cut off, so he has all the time for that. Good job, my dear.

My attention, however, is drawn away by the scene when I hear four sounds of breaking glass behind me. And turning back I find, to my delight, that the others have made it.

Tigress is the first to speak, with one of her typical scowls on her face, "Lion. We heard your beast on our way here. Is it following the instructions I gave?"

I stand aside and wave at the scene unfolding below us, smiling, "Observe, boys and girls."

All four of them stand closer to the cliff and watch as Abzu keeps flying over the students while they try to avoid his talons, unaware he is actually after only a specific one of them, while he also shrugs off the few spells and arrows from the two adults that actually manage to hit him.

I sure hope he's having as much fun scaring these kids as I am watching it happen.

"Huh…" Panther turns to me, "It does know we don't want the Kingdom's nobility coming after us, right?"

I can't help but giggle at his silly question.

"You see that?" I point at the wall of flames Abzu created and Panther nods, "Why do you think he's not using it now?"

To that, he replies with a shrug, "Alright."

So good to see the boy relax for once.

"This had better work," Tigress warns, eyes never leaving the clearing, "We have only one shot at this."

"Don't worry," I reassure her, resisting the urge to pat her head, "He's a professional."

"It's a monster," she spits, "Not a human being."

We have been side by side for so long, and still she looks down at my kids so much? Such a pity.

Ah, well. Hopefully she'll change her mind once we have the Outworlder.

* * *

[Eugenio]

Shit, shit, shit, shit, sh-!

"Careful!" Dedue says as he pulls me back a moment before the infernal lizard's nails can catch me. The monster utters a low snarl as it takes to the skies empty-handed again.

Trying to stay clear of that thing's talon is getting harder and harder for all of us, while it doesn't seem any more tired than it was at the start. And I don't know what made it decide not to do that fire thingy again, but I suspect it'll use it again if it runs out of patience.

But what else can we do? Our melee fighters have tried to attack when it got close enough, only to miss it badly.

Shamir and Ashe have tried hitting it with bows. They bounced off of it. Even the wings' membrane was unaffected somehow.

Annette's, Mercedes' and Hanneman's spells haven't fared much better. Fire Magic has left it unaffected. Wind only briefly destabilized its trajectory. And it dodged Thunder far too easily.

"Here it comes again!"

Glancing to the sky, I see it is indeed coming in for another swipe. Crap.

Everyone starts running again. I almost do the same, but then I notice something.

Mercedes is not moving. In fact, she's standing right where she is, with her arms open in an inviting manner.

I run to her position, grab her by an arm and try to pull her away.

"What the fuck are you doing, girl?!" I shout at her when she resists, "Run!"

She responds by looking at me quizzically. What's so confusing about running?

After a bit, she smiles, closes her eyes and pulls out of my grip.

"Don't worry," she gently says, "I've got this."

Like hell you are! You are not doing whatever…!

Another roar from the Dark Souls reject draws my attention away from the suicidal girl, the thing getting closer and closer.

I notice blue sparks of electricity forming between Mercedes' hands. She's going to use it at this range!?

She doesn't, thankfully, but diabolic drake dodges yet again by moving upwards.

Right in the path of a beam of lightning.

_Thoron!_

But...how? That should be more advanced than Annette's current repertoire. And Hanneman…

Turning backwards, I see the elderly mage in question glaring at the beast, the beam of lighting coming out of the palm of his hand.

The monster howls as the spell courses through its body and makes a u-turn in order to get out of Hanneman's range.

"Damnation," I hear Hanneman mutter before turning to us, "Are you two alright?"

"I'm fine, Professor," Mercedes chirply replies.

That is, until she turns to me and continues with a more concerned tone, "I'm not sure about him, though."

I look at her puzzled, "What are you saying?"

"What was it you were saying earlier?"

...is she serious? "I told you to run! Didn't you hear?"

She tilts her head, "You did?"

Another roar, this one louder than any before, cuts off the conversation and we turn to the incoming monster again.

"Let's do this again, Miss Mercedes," Hanneman solemnly says.

"Yes, Professor," she replies.

The sparks of electricity form again in the two's hands. And just like early, Mercedes launches Thunder first, forcing the beast to dodge it, and Hanneman launches a Thoron where it's moving.

Only this time, the motherfucker is prepared.

Before Thoron hits it, the monster releases another gust of its demonic fire and it collides with Hanneman's spell. The collision of the two creates a cloud of smoke that hides the winged devil.

And when it comes out of hiding, diving more quickly than it has so far, it is too late.

Before I can do anything, I find myself pinned to the ground, the monster's foot pressing on me and its fingers wrapping around my body into a grip I try and fail to break out of.

And glancing at my side, I find Hanneman in much the same situation.

"Professor! Mister Eugenio!"

At Mercedes' cry, the beast turns to her, hissing menacingly. The girl tries to conjure one more Thunder, but it acts faster, pushing her out of the way with its tail.

"Professor Hanneman!"

"Mister Eugenio!"

Looking around, I see the rest of the Blue Lions rushing for our position, weapons readied. Unfortunately, it's too little, too late.

The monster lets out one final roar at all of them. And then it takes off again. With Hanneman and me in its claws.

I try to struggle out of this monster's grip. Let me go, you mindless behemoth! Let me go! Let me…!

As I keep trying to break free, I make the worst mistake I could have made in this situation. I look down.

…

At first, it's all quiet from me. Just me watching the ever more distant soil as I realize we're meters in the air.

And then I crack.

"HELP!" I end up shouting, "PUT ME DOWN, MONSTER! PUT ME DOWN, PUT ME DOWN PUTME...!"

"Meteor!"

I stop only when I hear Hanneman shout that. He didn't just do what I think he did, right?

* * *

[Lion]

I turn to our leader, "See Tigress? He got the Outworlder and is taking him to us. Just like he was told."

She looks at me unimpressed, "Then tell me: what exactly does it expect us to do with Essar?"

To that, I can't help but hesitate. True, I told him to let the others go and he didn't. I guess he grabbed the older man by accident and couldn't let go without looking suspicious. Or perhaps he wanted to avoid being hit by another Thoron. Or…

"Whatever you're going to say, save it," Tigress interjects indignantly, "I said I wanted to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. That included having to silence avoidable witnesses. And your pet now has forced our hand."

"Oh, no need to be so rash," I argue, "We've all still got that memory spell from Per-"

"No," she cuts me off angrily, "Names. Not one. Not ever."

Sheesh, she really takes things _too_ seriously sometimes.

"And do you think a man showing up alive and with missing memories after being taken by a 'Demonic Beast' won't look suspicious?"

I start forming a counterpoint to her question, but my words die in my throat as I hear a rumbling sound coming from up in the sky.

Turning in the direction where the sound is coming from, I see the light of a small red globe that steadily grows until it becomes a large sphere of magma, the moisture in the air solidifying parts of it into rock.

There is only one thing this can be: a Meteor spell. The most destructive Fire spell known to the surface.

As I make that realization, the spell starts falling down. Right towards…

"No!"

* * *

[Eugenio]

The beast's form prevents me from seeing anything besides a red light coming from behind it. But that can not stop me from hearing the sound of the giant ball of flaming death Hanneman conjured.

The beast probably notices it too since it turns its head upwards, but at that point, there's little it can do, besides having the massive fireball connect with its back and letting us go upon impact.

Letting us go. To our deaths.

I can't help but scream as we fall down. How bad will it be? How much will it hurt? Will I feel the impact full-force before dying? Will I be dead before I even realize it? Will I…?

My train of thought is interrupted when I feel a sudden breeze coming towards me from below. A breeze that seems to slow down my fall.

And in fact, when I do touch solid ground again, it's...not gentle, but not at a speed that would have reduced me to a bloody pulp either. Trying to get up is still problematic, though, as I feel fits of pain all over my body.

And not long after that, a flaming ball that used to be the black crocodile lands a short distance away from me. A sight that I can't turn away from, for some reason.

Heavy breaths coming from behind me, however, do draw my attention away from the burning carcass and I find Hanneman. Who has lost his monocle and now sports a few bruises and scratches on his face. And not only there, if the tears in his outfit and the way he's massaging his right arm are any indication.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

I immediately grab him by what's left of his jacket, "You senile crazy old man!" I yell at him, "What the hell were you thinking?! You could have killed us both with that spell!"

He looks at me confusedly, "I'm sorry, what?"

"You heard me!" I continue, "Even if that Meteor didn't burn us alive, that fall should have killed us! I don't even…!"

A growl cuts off my rant. An angry animalistic growl coming from behind me.

I let go of Hanneman and turn back. And then I wish I hadn't.

Within the fire, something fidgets. And soon, that something turns out to be the beast. Looking worse for wear and with flames dancing on parts of its body, but still very much alive.

And when I say 'worse for wear', I mean it. Its antlers have broken off, large tears have formed in its wings' membranes and patches of skin have come off, revealing bones as dark as everything else of its body.

That fall must have hurt like a bitch. And judging by the glare it's throwing at us while making a show of its teeth as it also hisses, if it wasn't angry before, that pain sure made it furious now.

Crap…

However, there's something else that catches my attention. One of the patches of skin that it lost is on its chest, near the area where a normal living being's heart should be. And within that tear, something is glowing. What is…?

With an angry snarl, the monster bends its neck backwards and more of its dark fire forms in its mouth.

Oh God, please no!

_TWANG_

An arrow buries itself in the beast's chest where the glow was coming from. The fire dissipates from its mouth and the monster starts twitching and lets out screeches so loud I have to cover my ears. And as it does that, what remains of its skin starts bubbling. So do what of its black bones are visible.

What I would expect, knowing what I do of Demonic Beats, would be for it to dissolve into dust like in the game. Instead, the bubbling monster slowly melts into a dark liquid that drains onto the soil.

At least it does keep something from the game: it leaves something behind. Just not some poor chump who made the mistake of holding something they shouldn't have. It's the skeleton of another creature. A much smaller one compared to the behemoth that attacked us.

When it has finished melting, I turn to where that arrow came from, where I find Shamir holding her bow in the direction of what's left of the beast, with the Blue Lions right behind her.

A sight to which I can only exhale in relief.

* * *

[Lion]

"NO!" is all I can say at the sight of Abzu melting away, the wyvern bones I used to create him all that are left.

No...no, no, no! I refuse to accept this! I can't let him die like this! I have to…!

Someone grabs my hand before it can reach my pockets. I turn and find the offender is none other than Panther.

"Lion," he calmly tells me, "What are you doing?"

"What do you think?" I snap, "I'm going down there! If I can at least recover the Crest Stone…!"

"Lion," he places his hands on my shoulder and looks me straight in the eyes, an apologetic look in his, "It's too late. It..._he_ is gone," those words hit my heart like icy daggers, "You saw where he was hit. And even if the Stone survived, you would not be able to return him to life. You'd have to start over, with the end result being a new being. Not the Abzu you knew."

I want to protest. To tell him that's not true. That I haven't lost Abzu like I've lost everything else.

But I can't. I know, better than he does, that he's right. I can recreate the body, but not the soul within.

"I…"

My voice shakes.

"I didn't…"

My legs tremble.

"I wasn't…"

My eyes itch.

"I only wanted to…"

"I know," he wraps his arms around me in a hug, "Let it out."

All I can do at those words is place my forehead on his shoulder. And from there, tears start coming.

* * *

[Eugenio]

I let out a sigh of relief as Mercedes' magic finishes patching me up.

"Tank you," I tell her.

She smiles happily to that, "You're welcome."

Besides the two of us, Annette is also finished healing Hanneman.

The two girls and their classmates are now with us, while Shamir went to investigate the bones the beast left behind.

Not a clue what there is to 'investigate', though. Is she afraid those bones will come back to life and we'll have to fight a skeleton? Is it an excuse to do some edgy shit like taking a trophy? I have absolutely no idea.

"Thank you, Miss Annette," he tells the ginger girl, who answers with a cheery smile.

"I'm glad you both made it, Professor," Dimitri intervenes after that, "I feared that creature would be the end of you."

"It was close," Hanneman admits, "But we made it."

"By pure chance," I hiss as I turn to Hanneman.

The old coot looks at me quizzically, "I beg your pardon?"

"Do I really have to repeat myself?!" I snap, "It's a miracle your little stunt didn't kill us bot!"

Realization comes to his face at that. Did it really take him so much to put two and two together?

"I apologize for the suddenness of my action," he then replies, "But I assure you, everything was under control. I knew the Demonic Beast would shield us from the fire, and I had prepared a Wind spell to soften our fall."

My glare doesn't waver from him.

"In any case," he turns back to the students, who had also apparently turned to me, "As soon as Dame Shamir is finished, we need to move out again. If there was one Demonic Beast nearby, there may very well be more."

"And not just them."

I almost jump at the sound of Shamir's voice. When the heck did she sneak behind us?

"Ah, Dame Shamir," Hanneman replies, "What do you…?"

"Those bones are not from the same creature," the archer cuts him off before he can finish, "Wings, legs, spine, skull, all of them come to different breeds of wyverns. Someone took their bones and put them together in a patchwork resembling an actual wyvern."

What? Who would do that?

The others have similar reactions to mine, but Dimitri is the first to voice it, "Are you saying that…" he briefly glances at the skeleton, "That thing is man-made?"

She nods, "Yes. Made by either our pursuers or maybe just crafted for them,"

Oh crap, what did we just stumble into?

"And there is more."

She raises an arrow after saying that. An arrow with...some sort of sphere imbedded on its head. And some kind of dark liquid coming out of where the arrowhead punctures the sphere.

Not sure what it is, but everyone else's eyes widen at the sight of the thing.

"Is that a Crest Stone?" Hanneman asks in shock.

Wait, it is?

"I believe so," Shamir replies as she focuses on Hanneman, "But since this is your field of expertise, I'll just…"

Everyone instantly freezes at the sight of her making to grab the Crest Stone.

"Ah, wait, Dame Shamir, don't!" Hanneman stops her.

Shamir arches an eyebrow, "Why?"

"Those were meant to be held by the Elites' descendants. Horrible things are said to happen to others wielding them."

Shamir just scoffs at Hanneman's warning. Good job, man.

"I have a limited number of arrows," she says with an annoyed tone, "And we don't have time for superstitions."

"Dey are not superstitions," I interject without thinking, "Dose who wield dem and don't have de corresponding Crest are turned into Demonic Beasts."

It is only when I see her eyes' widen that I remember. The reason why non Crest-bearers aren't allowed to hold Heroes' Relics was kept secret from Fódlan's populace. I just blurted out something that I shouldn't know.

And now, it's not just Shamir, but also Hanneman and every single one of the students that is staring at me in disbelief.

Holy shit, no!

"Are you _absolutely_ sure," Shamir replies in a low tone, her eyes narrowing into a glare, "Of what you just said?"

Shit! How do I get out of this now? What am I supposed to tell all these people? How can I justify…?

"Answer me!" Shamir snaps and I all but jump at that, "Yes or no?"

"...yes," I gulp.

Her glare doesn't waver and she stiffly nods to me before handing her arrow to Hanneman.

"Take this and the students and go ahead. The two of us will rejoin you."

Hanneman looks back and forth dumbfounded at the arrow and Shamir, "What…?"

"Now!" she angrily cuts him off.

Without uttering another word, Hanneman takes the arrow, gestures at the students to follow him and then takes off with them. The few curious glances some of them don't escape my notice. Shit.

After that, I'm left alone with Shamir. Who crosses her arms while she keeps glaring. While the only thing I can do is lower my head in defeat.

"Come on, say it," I snort when Shamir stays silent.

"What?"

"Dat you told me dis would happen."

"I think that's obvious enough without saying it."

Oh ahahahah, Shamir, you're so funny!

"Now Professor Hanneman and the Blue Lions know something is up with you," she continues unperturbed, "What do you plan on doing about it?"

My head scrambles for an answer to give her. Using the Seteth excuse would not stop the questions about my knowledge of Crest Stones and Demonic Beasts. And I can't justify that with my job at the library since Rhea made sure such knowledge was hidden or destroyed.

Only one solution comes to my mind. One I will need Shamir's help to make it work.

"If I just tell dem I'm from Dagda, could you back me up?"

She simply quirks an eyebrow at that.

"Some around de Monastery said I looked Dagdan," I explain, "I can make someting up from dere, but I need you to confirm it."

She furrows her brow, "Even if I agreed to such a stupid idea," hey! "It would not work. The girl native of the Empire has already told her friend what you spoke when we were attacked is not Dagdan common."

I look at her confusedly, "What de hell are you talking about? I spoke Adrestian common from start to finish."

Well, except when the monster cut our escape route, but I can dismiss that as an insult that can't be translated properly.

Shamir looks at me unimpressed, "Think carefully. Are you sure of what you just said?"

Of course I'm sure! I've always been careful not to slip into italian and…

And…

"_Che cazzo stai facendo, ragazza?!" I shout at Mercedes when she resists, "Scappa!"_

Oh, no.

"_AIUTO!" I end up shouting, "METTIMI GIÙ, MOSTRO! METTIMI GIÙ, METTIMI GIÙ, METTIMIGI...!"_

No.

_I immediately grab him by what's left of his jacket, "Vecchio pazzo rincoglionito!" I yell at him, "Che diavolo ti è venuto in mente?! Avresti potuto ucciderci entrambi con quell'incantesimo!"_

No, no, no.

"_Mi hai sentito!" I continue, "Anche se quel Meteor non ci avesse bruciato vivi, la caduta ci avrebbe dovuto uccidere! Non so nemmeno...!"_

No! I can't have slipped into italian! Not in front of so many people!

"You have," Shamir comments, somehow knowing exactly what I'm thinking.

"And…" I say hesitantly, "And you say...you've heard Mercedes claim…?"

She nods, "You've said enough in your native tongue to stir curious whispers amongst the students. And also enough to make it clear that it isn't just a dialect. What she said about it is one of the few whispers worth noting."

Oh fuck no!

"You may as well tell the truth. It'll be less of a headache for everyone."

Oh, like she's one to talk!

"Easy for you to say!" I hiss at her, "Not all of us are edgy assassins dat have an easy life because dey're in de good graces of de Archbishop!"

If my words affect her in any way, she doesn't show it, "And you are in Hanneman's good graces," she arches an eyebrow, "Or did you think I would not notice?"

Wait, how…?

"It's time you stop being ridiculous about this," she scoffs.

Ridiculous? RIDICULOUS?

"Do not tink to know my motives for dis!" I snap, "I have very good reason for not wanting to draw oders' attention!"

She shakes her head dismissively, "Whatever. You still have some explaining to do for the Blue Lions."

…

I try to come up with a retort. Or at least with some other excuse to cover my italian origins.

But I come up blank. If I truly slipped into italian and Mercedes truly knows Dagdan, there's little I can do.

And now I know I can't count on Shamir. Not now and not ever.

"Fine," I growl, "You win on dis one."

"It's not a matter of winning," she responds, "It's about not being an idiot."

I raise a finger warningly, "One more word like dat, and I could hit you."

She ignores me altogether and turns to follow the students. I follow her shortly after. And we do not speak further after that exchange.

* * *

[Tigress]

Only when the cubs are a good long distance away do we warp where Lion's creation fell.

The first thing Lion does after that is rushing to the wyvern skeleton. She then kneels beside the skull and places a hand on it.

And then she starts whimpering again.

Panther and Lynx go to her and kneel beside her. Cheetah remains by my side.

It seems I may have misjudged Lion all this time. I believed the affection she showed these beasts was nothing but a show. An act to hide her true exploitative self and lack of care for those that are exploited in the process.

Not unlike Bias.

But now, as she mourns the destruction of her pet...either she's a much better actress, or she genuinely cares about these abominations. As misguided as she may be.

"It seems she'll be going for a while," Cheetah sighs.

"...let her," I begrudgingly reply.

He turns to me, a stupified look on his face, "What's that you just said?"

"Let her," I repeat, "Better she does this now that it's just us than when it'll be more problematic."

His face shifts to a knowing smirk, "Now, that's more in line with your usual attitude."

"Shut up," I reply before turning in the direction the cubs went.

We have failed. There are no ifs ands or buts about it. Not only is the Outworlder still at large, now we have eleven witnesses that this was no regular Demonic Beast. Witnesses that will tell the Church of Seiros. And if our suspicions about the Archbishop are true, it won't be long before the Knights come for us.

Still, when the assassin picked up the arrow it wasn't Essar's words that stopped her from grabbing the Crest Stone. It was the Outworlder's. What could an outsider have told her that was a more compelling argument than a renowned scholar?

When the cardinal told us he had blended into the Monastery's life far too easily for someone who came from outside Fódlan, I assumed someone within Garreg Mach had helped him along. But now…there's something strange going on here.

And that's without considering the strangeness of the Outworlder and the assassin having a conversation that was so private they had to send Essar and the students away.

"Tell me Cheetah," I address him but don't actually turn to him, "What do you think we are going to do now?"

"You're asking me?" he asks confusedly.

"The others are busy right now, aren't they?"

Cheetah groans to that answer.

"Well, I suppose we'll be leaving the Oghma Mountains," he ultimately replies, "The Church sure as hell won't be happy to hear of what happened. And the Dagdan was the reason we went with this in the first place. Now it's failed and she's still around."

The assassin was a problem because we were trying to keep a low profile. But now that she _knows_ something is up…

"We will," I confirm, "But not before we proceed with plan C."

"...we had a plan C?"

I answer by grabbing my mask and placing it on my face.

"_As of now, we do._"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go. We finally meet Abzu, things go to shit for Eugenio, Lion has a breakdown and Tigress prepares one last move. This was my first try at a battle scene so chaotic, so apologies if it's not that good. If you want to offer feedback on how to improve it, I'm always listening.
> 
> As always, thanks to my betareaders 16th-Beat and LowerBlack (without whom the fight scene would have been even worse). Join us at the TreeHouse Discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> I'll see you all in the next chapter. Until then, stay safe!


	18. Chapter 16-Figures In The Shadows

[Tigress]

"_And once Lynx's done her part, we will break off._" I look over the siblings as I finish. Panther and Cheetah are tapping nervously their feet nervously. Lynx is keeping her arms crossed. "_Any questions?_"

"_We're going to do all that and then just…..._" Panther intervenes, pausing briefly, "_let the cubs be? Like that?_"

I nod. "_At this point, we would need to take some of them to cover our tracks. Take them and make sure they are never found again. Is that what you want?_"

He gulps. "_No, but…_"

"_I think what he means,_" Cheetah interrupts, "_Is why we're even doing this? We've already got one big target on our backs as is._"

"_Yes, we do,_" I confirm. "_Which means subtlety will do us no more good. But learning who the Outworlder shared his origins with and stopping the news from reaching the Shambhala Council are still our priorities._"

The twins briefly glance at each other but say nothing more.

"_Anything else?_"

"_Why do _I _have to do that_?" Lynx asks indignantly.

"_Because you're the most inexperienced and I feel safer giving you the easiest part of the plan to play._"

"_That's not fair!_" she protests.

I look back at her brothers. "_You two have any objections?_"

"_No,_" the two reply simultaneously.

"_Traitors!_"

"_End of discussion,_" I cut her off. "_Now get to your positions._"

The three turn around and move out right away, thankfully. As for me, I get back to my partner for my part. The partner I wish had not joined us on this.

"_So, how did they take it_?" Lion asks, her gaze not leaving the general direction where the cubs' camp is and the cheerfulness of her tone more strained than usual.

"_They'll do their part,_" I reply. "_What of you? Still sure about doing this?_"

"_Of course!_" she replies, a bit too quickly for my liking. "_I've got to pull my weight, right?_"

"_Lion,_" I sigh, "_I know I can come off as an unfeeling bitch. But I do know when someone needs time for themselves. To mourn._"

Lion tenses at my words. "_...mourning can wait. We have a job to do._"

Except she is normally not so stoic about it. But I can tell trying to dissuade her now won't work.

"J_ust promise me one thing,_" I add, "_No one dies tonight._"

She doesn't react and merely keeps staring in the distance, her mask preventing me from seeing her expression. I almost reach out to remove it and ask again.

"_As you wish,_" she sighs before I can do that.

Not the answer I was hoping for, but I suppose it will have to do.

"_Let's get moving then._"

* * *

[Eugenio]

After rejoining the Blue Lions, Shamir told them to keep moving, that we couldn't risk whoever is following us letting another of those beasts loose and that I'd answer everyone's questions when we'd make camp.

That last one without me agreeing to it beforehand, of course.

If the pace we were going at before the demonic wyvern's attack was hard for me, the one we go at after is downright atrocious. The fact that even the least physically-fit of the group, like Annette and Hanneman himself, were struggling to keep up didn't help. I can only thank Dimitri for insisting we make some breaks, or we'd have ended up on the soil struggling for breath.

Even when the sun set, Shamir opted to keep marching for a little longer, deciding to stop only when she found a spot within the vegetation that was 'good enough' and adding that the town outside the Monastery would be 'not much further' and that hopefully being so close to Garreg Mach would make our pursuers 'hesitant about attacking again'.

Oh, and we're also not starting a fire tonight. 'Would give our position away', Shamir said. Which I guess makes sense, but it doesn't help much with the cold. Or how crap the rations of dried meat we're now consuming taste.

The most I did after tasting one must have been a disapproving look at them. That didn't stop Shamir from adding her two cents.

"Quit complaining. On longer travels, those are more often than not what makes the difference between life and starvation."

Bitch, I didn't even say anything!

Besides that jab from her, the dinner consumed in utter quiet. Previous evenings, these kids always had some form of conversation to make. Be it Ingrid scolding Sylvain and/or Felix for one thing or another, Mercedes and Annette gossipping, or Dimitri trying to make small talk with his retainer.

But not tonight. Tonight, several of them are more focused on sneaking glances at me. Oh, they try to be subtle about it, but they fail in that regard.

And after all, who can blame their curiosity? They have been groomed in a society where everything that is not of Fódlan is wrong. Where it's either them who are blessed by Sothis versus every other heathen who is not. Of course an outsider who claims to know more about Crest than them and has found a place within the Monastery is a subject of curiosity.

Or rather, a rare breed of beast to find and observe.

I finish my ration, and wait for the students to do the same before saying what I have to. One of the things I'd hoped not to do so long as I stayed in this den of Crest-worshipping bastards.

"Alright," I sigh as I cross my arms, "You all have questions. Ask away."

Let's get this over with. And hope the resulting problems can be contained.

The Lions glance among each other, probably trying to figure out who should talk first or what questions to ask first.

Eventually, Ashe is the first to break the ice.

"Uh…" he hesitates, "Are you...actually from Varholm?"

"No," I snort, "Now dat we have de obvious out of de way, your _actual_ questions?"

Shamir gives me a dirty look at those words.

Don't like how I'm gonna go about this? Well, deal with it, Blue. I'm not happy either.

"The language you were speaking when we were attacked…" Mercedes intervenes, "It wasn't Dagdan common, was it?"

"Why do you ask questions you already know de answers to?" I curtly respond. Rhetorical questions are even more of a waste of time than ones asking the obvious.

Mercedes curls her lips briefly, but then continues unperturbed, "Where are you from?"

Good, she's being direct now.

"From a land I doubt you've ever heard before," I grumble. "Italy."

Immediately, the majority of the students turn again to one another and start whispering to each other, the exceptions being Felix, who is just looking at me with his default sullen expression, and Dedue and Dimitri, who merely share a look with one another.

Oh, and Hanneman. Who has just been watching silently so far. Probably waiting for the part where he'll have to come out and say he already knew this stuff.

"I'm sorry, what's this Italy?" Ingrid asks, brow furrowed, "And where is it?"

At the soon to be Pegasus Knight's question, I give the usual explanation I've given so far to everyone else: my country is far away from Fódlan and we only know of it through ancient stories. The students' reactions vary, some like Dedue and Felix just listen with stoic attention, others like Ashe and Annette have their faces morph in growing shock.

"Knowing all dis, de Archbishop and her assistant assigned me to work at de library," I conclude. "Only dem and a select few more were supposed to know," I nod towards Shamir and Hanneman. "Two of which being dem."

The students immediately turn to the two. Hanneman looks slightly embarrassed by the attention. Shamir has no reaction to it.

Annette is the first to break out of her stupor, "This is incredible!" she exclaims as she turns back to me. "How did you get here?"

"I don't know," I snort, "I've been trying to look into it. Noting concrete has come up yet."

Nothing that doesn't involve either mentioning my Crest or divulging more knowledge I'm not supposed to know.

Annette makes to ask more questions but Sylvain, of all people, beats her to it.

"And that stuff you said earlier...you know, the one about Crest Stones turning people into Demonic Beats etcetera...what did you mean with it?"

"Exactly what I said," I reply matter of factly. "If someone holds a Hero's Relic or a Crest Stone for too long and does not bear de corresponding Crest, dose artifacts release a dark goo dat slowly," and painfully judging by Miklan's screaming, "envelops dem into a giant cocoon dat den releases a Demonic Beast."

That starts more muttering among the students. Muttering about my declarations on the relics of their beloved Elites.

"That can't be right."

"Why would gifts from the Goddess do something like that?"

"They must have gotten something wrong."

To the side, Shamir is still looking utterly uninterested in what's happening in front of her. Hanneman, on the other hand, is giving me a questioning look. One to which I can only give a 'later' gesture.

So glad to know what I can offer as a resource is the thing that interests him the most.

To my surprise, however, not all of the students are debating about what I just said. Mercedes has risen from where she was sitting and has come next to me, kneeling just enough to be at eye level with me, a concerned look on her face.

"What?" I ask her.

"How long have you been here?"

Her question takes me by surprise, "Why do you ask?"

"I would just like to know."

...okay?

"Tree monts at dis point," I reply. "I arrived during last year's Lone Moon."

Mercedes slightly nods to that. "I see. And how has your stay been so far?"

I shrug. "I got used to being here." I arch an eyebrow. "Why?"

Mercedes purses her lips. "Would you like to talk about it?"

Talk? Yeah, like I can tell her of all people what vexes me.

"I'd rader not," I reply. "You are a student of a military academy. You already have your studies to worry about. Dis is someting dat concerns me and me alone."

She leans closer to me after that, her face showing no reaction to what I just said. "I may be a student, but that doesn't mean I can't help you."

"What even makes you tink I need help?"

Her reply consists of gently placing a hand on my shoulder giving me a kind smile. "I may not know the land where you're from. But I do know what it's like to have your life be swept around. To be taken away from everything you know."

…

"I know the fear that comes with being thrust into the unkn-"

A dry chuckle escapes my lips, cutting off her little speech. Mercedes' smile immediately falls and her hand leaves my shoulder.

I shake my head before saying my piece.

"You tink you know me?" I whisper, "You tink you understand what it is I'm going trough, Mercedes _von Bartels_?"

She freezes at hearing that name.

"You tink escaping House Bartels with your moder by your side compares to my situation?" I continue, slowly raising in volume, "To being taken away by your homeland wit no clue of what happened and being left wit finding your own way, in a land of strangers who don't speak your language or even ever heard of where you came from, _alone_?"

She does not answer my questions.

I shake my head. "You don't know me. You can't understand me. And you certainly can't help me."

Mercedes doesn't react and merely keeps looking at me dumbfounded. I, on the other hand, turn away from her.

Only to find everyone else staring at me in disbelief. Even Dedue's and Felix's usual expressions have faltered to make room for some degree of surprise.

The only two exceptions are Shamir, who just looks disappointed, and Annette, who is trying to muster a withering glare but only manages to form a pout.

Cry me a river, you tw-

"_**Ahem,**_" a voice suddenly interrupts my thoughts. A deeply distorted, echoing voice coming from all around. "_**Well, then. Good evening, boys and girls.**_"

Everyone immediately jumps up and into formation, those with physical weapons readying them, while our mages raise their hands.

"_**My, my, why no fire at all, my dears? The night is rather chilly. Surely you weren't expecting you'd escape my eye that easily?**_"

Oh, crap. Our infamous pursuer.

"Who goes there?" Shamir snarls. "Show yourself!"

For a moment, there is only silence. No answer comes to Shamir's demand.

"_**Come on, Miss Nevrand,**_" the voice continues as if that pause never happened. "_**Did you think I'd do all this just to be ordered to stop? No, the real thing you should be saying is 'how are you talking to us like this?'**_"

"We don't care!" Shamir respondes.

"_**A shame. Then again, your employer isn't known for hiring open-minded individuals.**_"

The hell does that even mean?

"_**But either way, how I'm doing this is the hint as to where I am,**_" the voice continues, "_**Tell me, do you know how sounds work?**_"

...what?

"_**Sounds are not what you think they are. Sounds are a perception of our ears. A perception felt through vibrations into the very air that surrounds us. And you do know how the air can be manipulated, don't you?**_"

The fact that we're dealing with a Wind Mage powerful enough to do something this complex does not scare me. Neither does the fact that they can even _think_ of doing something like this.

No, what scares me is the scientific knowledge this person just displayed. A scientific knowledge too far ahead for Fódlan.

"Look!" Hanneman cries out while pointing at...somewhere in the dark. What is he…?

Far in the distance where he's pointing, there is...something white. Something small but very noticeable, thanks to its contrast with the surrounding darkness. What is…?

The white thing disappears before I can try to better discern what it is. A purple circle forms on the ground right in front of our group and then with a sound similar to glass breaking, something materializes over the circle as it disappears.

No, not something. Some_one_. A tall woman, around a meter and eighty centimeters tall, wearing a black cloak that covers her from head to toe. Beneath said cloak, I can see she's wearing a high-collared black dress with dark blue markings. Her hands are covered by a pair of dark gloves, as is most of her head by a hood, even though some strands of blue hair are still visible. As well as the white mask resembling some sort of cat covering her face.

"_Well done,_" the woman chuckles, with a voice distorted in a way that reminds me...of the Flame Emperor's. "_You win a cookie! Well, you would if I actually carried some._"

Everyone points their weapons at her.

"_Now, now,_" she says, clicking her tongue, "_Is that any way to greet a lady?_"

"Who are you?" Shamir asks, her eyes narrowing at the newcomer.

The tall woman turns to her. At first, she doesn't say anything and the only movement I can see is some slight twitch of her fingers.

"_How rude, demanding names like this,_" she replies with an insulted tone. "_Then again,_" her voice slightly lowers, a menacing note entering her words, "_You are the brute who slew an old friend of mine just a few hours ago. I suppose manners are beyond you._"

A few hours…? Oh God, what kind of lunatic have we got here that considers monsters her 'friends'?

If Shamir is affected by the other woman's words in any way, she doesn't show it, the grip on her bow remaining tight and her gaze focused on this woman, ready for one wrong move from her.

"_Anyway, since you all clearly wish to know,_" she turns away from Shamir and her voice returns to normal. "_You can call me Lion. I speak on behalf of the Night Cats._"

A snort from Sylvain draws everyone's attention away from this figure.

"Sorry," he coughs in his hand. "It's just...that's such a silly name."

'Lion' cackles after those words. "_Oh, I like you, Gautier. It's so rare to find someone who can find the silliness of a situation and laugh about it._" when she's done laughing, she decides to start circling us, "_Now, who else have we got here?_" she clasps her hands together and glances over us all, "_An assassin from Dagda. A former son of House Essar. More future lords of the Kingdom. A refugee from Duscur. The last of House Martriz. And…_" she stops walking and makes a mock gasp when her eyes land on me. "_Oh, my. Hello there, Eugenio._"

My blood freezes at hearing that last sentence. And everyone's eyes turn to me once again.

She just…? But...how does she…?

"What did you just say?" I ask bewildered.

"_Eugenio,_" she repeats nonchalantly, "_That's what your name is, isn't it?_"

It is at that moment that it dawns on me. The Demonic Beast, the Crest Stone, the scientific knowledge, the voice distortion…

This woman...no, this...thing is an Agarthan!

"You!" I exclaim, "You are de one who…!"

"_Bravo!_" she starts clapping. "_Congratulations! You win...well, I guess you just win bragging rights, eh?_"

I've been an idiot! Of course this excursion would have been the opening Solon needed to send one of his goons after me!

"_So…_" the overgrown mole continues, "_How has your stay in Fódlan been? And have you enjoyed the little welcome gift you received?_"

Welcome…? "What are you even talking about?"

"_Oh, you know…_" she briefly glances at Hanneman, who has embers dancing in the hand he's pointing at her. "_The thing for which you've been hanging around dear Professor Essar so much during these months? The thing that latched to you when you arrived? The fragment of Crest that is now part of your blood?_"

Wh...what?

"_Don't tell me you didn't figure it out?_" the pale giantess continues with a disappointed tone. "_Surely you must have noticed the changes to your body after all this time?_"

Changes? What changes is she talking about?

She snaps her fingers."_Oh, silly me. You must have gotten one of the magical ones. Those don't change your physical attributes,_" she briefly chuckles. "_Sorry, I can be hasty sometimes._"

As my body tenses more and more, there is only one thing I manage to utter to this Slitherer. "...what do you want from me?"

She points at me. "_Now _that _is a good question._" she looks around the rest of the group. "_Unfortunately, the answer is not one I'm willing to give in front of this lot. If you want it, you'll have to come with me._"

That invitation is what snaps me out of my stupor. Not on your life, creep!

"Never," I hiss at her. No way I'm letting these freaks turn me into one of their lab rats or whatever else they want!

"_Come now, let's not play hardball._" she offers her hand. "_Come with me and I can answer any question you have._"

"Oh yeah?" I rebuke. "Is dat one of de metods you and your kind use to lure your victims? Offer dem someting dey want? Before de experimentations? De tortures? De deats?"

The Slitherer's hand falls and she tenses at my questions. I can't see what face she's making, but I suspect it's one of stupor. It takes her a few moments to recover.

"_Well, aren't you more interesting than I'd originally thought?_"

...I just said something I shouldn't have, didn't I?

"That's enough!" Shamir cuts the mole off as she points an arrow at her. "Stand down. No matter how powerful you are, you are outnumbered."

Again, 'Lion' looks at Shamir wordlessly. Again, her fingers twitch.

This time, however, her reply is a sinister chuckle, "_How cute._"

"_Well, I tried with the carrot,_" she turns her head upwards and raises the volume of her voice. "_Oh, Tiiiiiigresssss? Is the stick ready yet?_"

What?

Another sound of breaking glass comes from behind the group. And turning around, sure enough, there is another one. A shorter woman (about my height), with a similar cloak, but a dark samurai-like armor instead of the robe. Her mask is also similar, but it has a pattern of lines that was absent from the other.

And unlike Lion, this 'Tigress' is holding some sort of katana with a glowing green gem in her right hand with a reverse grip.

Ashe and Shamir point their arrows at her. Hanneman, Annette and Mercedes prepare to attack. Neither arrows nor spells are launched before Tigress taps the gem with her free hand.

"_Forseti!_"

It happens in just a few moments. First, the gem glows brighter. Then, I feel a gust of wind, stronger than any I've ever felt, hit me. And then, my feet are no longer on solid ground and I'm being tossed backwards.

* * *

[Shamir]

I hiss as the gust of wind slams me against the trunk of a tree, shots of pain spreading all across my back.

In spite of it, however, I manage to raise back and glance around to assess the situation.

I lost the grip on my bow and arrow when whatever that spell was hit us, with neither of them within sight now. I still have a few arrows in my quiver, but my range with them is limited now.

Of the group, Hanneman is the only other one who is still within eyesight, laying on the ground next to a tree and massaging his side. No sign of the students or Eugenio. They must have been pushed further back.

Of course, it can't be a coincidence that only Hanneman and I were just slammed into trees. And if their objective is really Eugenio, there must be more of these people wherever the students were sent.

As Hanneman starts raising back as well, I see Tigress slowly approaching us, sword switched to a regular grip in her hand and ready for a fight. The gem in the hilt has stopped glowing altogether, possibly a sign that whatever part it played in casting this spell has drained it. Hopefully that means Tigress will be limited to just relying on her fencing skills.

Striding behind her, there is also Lion, who must have warped out of the spell's way while we weren't looking. Her posture is as relaxed as before, but her arms are now folded, one hand tapping the side of her arm impatiently.

"_Stand down,_" Tigress warns. "_We have no quarrel with you two or with the Blue Lions. We only want the outsider._"

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Hanneman replies solemnly, drawing the two masked women's attention to him. "Even if you had not first set a Demonic Beast upon us, even if the accusations made towards you right now weren't too severe to ignore, I have a duty to protect the members of this group. Even those that are not my students."

Why must everyone in Fódlan always have to be so melodramatic?

After he says that, Tigress and Lion turn to me. They do not say a word. They do not shift their stances. They just wait.

"I'm here for a job," I simply say, "And I don't leave jobs half-finished."

"_So be it,_" Tigress sighs. "_Lion, deal with Essar._" she points her sword at me. "_And you can draw that knife in your boot. I can see it clearly._"

Little good it will do to you.

I draw said knife and take a battle stance. A knife against a sword are not favorable odds, but if I can find flaws in her form and stab her in the right spots, I should be able to…

Lion tsks and slowly but firmly pushes her compatriote's blade aside with one of her fingers.

"You _deal with Essar_." she turns to me, Dark Magic gathering in her free hand. "_I'll take_ her_._"

So she cared about that beast so much? I can work with that. It means she'll be angry. Unfocused. And I've already killed mages with less than a knife before.

"_That is not what we agreed!_" Tigress protests.

"_Tough!_"

Before anything else can be said, the sorceress launches a Miasma at me, which I only barely manage to dodge. And at the side of my vision, I manage to spot Hanneman engaging the swordswoman.

Very well, looks like it's me and this mage. The difficult part will be closing the distance between us. Once I'm in range, taking her down should be a simple matter.

I just hope she doesn't have any trick up her sleeve for that.

* * *

[Eugenio]

Ringing. That's what I first hear when I come to again. A ringing in my ears that doesn't stop even when I open my eyes, finding the foliage of trees partially covering the dark night sky.

Ok, so those two must mean it's the same night and I haven't been taken by those two Slitherers yet. Unless I was knocked out cold for twenty-four hours, which I guess is-

I hiss as I try to raise up, a burst of pain coming to my head, back and sides. Ok, pretty sure it's the same night.

"Is everyone alright?" I hear Dimitri ask from a distance. Turning to where I heard him, I see he's on one of his knees and holding his left side. His outfit and face have some dirt on them, but he otherwise looks fine.

Scattered all around us, there are also the rest of the Blue Lions. Dimitri's retainer and his childhood friends are in a similar condition as him, with some dirt on them, massaging some part of their bodies and - in a couple of cases - helping themselves on their feets with their weapons.

Annette, Ashe and Mercedes, on the other hand, are laying on the ground unmoving, the rising and falling of their chests the only thing showing they're alive.

"We're fine, Your Highness," Ingrid replies as she massages her left arm. When she notices her three unconscious classmates, however, she adds, "I think."

"Annette is ok," Sylvain, who is now kneeling besides the ginger girl, says. "Out cold, but she seems fine."

"So is Ashe," Dedue says.

Ingrid then gets closer to Mercedes and makes sure she's also fine.

As that happens, I do my best to fight back the pain and get back to my feet. Meanwhile, Dimitri glances around, a concerned look coming to his features.

"Have any of you seen where Professor Hanneman and Dame Shamir-?"

Before he can finish, another one of those glass-breaking like noises comes from behind him. As he turns around, his shoulder is tapped by some sort of zizagged blade, which then releases electricity that envelops the Faerghus prince. He lets out a short scream of pain before falling to the ground under everyone's disbelieving eyes, smoke coming off of his armor.

After he does that, we find out who did that to him; two more of these 'Night Cats' Slitherers, as the cloaks and samurai-like armors imply. They are two men at around the same height, taller than Tigress but shorter than Lion. One is wielding some sort of naginata, with the zigzagged blade that electrocuted Dimitri on the tip, and is wearing the same mask as Lion. The other is holding a pair of handaxes and his mask is a spotted version of his compatriots.

"_Whoops,_" the one with the spotted mask nonchalantly says as he twirls his weapons. "_Did we do that?_"

"_Your two protectors will not help you this time,_" the one with the spotless mask adds with an even tone as he takes a battle stance. "_You face us alone._"

The students immediately tense and point their weapons at the two.

Wasting no time, the naginata-wielding Slitherer twirls his weapon and advances on the students, more and more blue sparks forming on the blade. And then, with some moves that remind me of Ray Park's stunts as Maul for The Phantom Menace, engages them.

Right away, it's clear the students are out of their league against this guy as he effortlessly parries their attacks and, with a few well-placed kicks, thwarts their attempts to surround him.

And using said kicks to their advantage, the Slitherer is able to separate Ingrid and Sylvain from Felix and Dedue. And from there, the two lance-wielding students are charged by the other one.

The one-sidedness of both fights is painfully obvious from the start: the Slitherer with the clean mask is taking full advantage of his naginata's range, staying out of Felix's and Dedue's striking range but still keeping both within the range of his thrusts and slashes. And the one with the spotted mask puts so much force behind his handaxes, he has no trouble pushing Ingrid's and Sylvain's lunges, keeping them on the defensive.

But neither of these Slitherers seems intent on focusing on me.

...I _could_ try to intervene. Lion seemed surprised to hear I knew who they are. And they should not know I learned magic.

But _should_ I? Past the initial surprise, all I am is a guy who can throw balls of electricity. Not a magician that actually knows how to fight and certainly not an actual martial fighter.

And besides, do I want the Blue Lions to learn more about me?

My train of thoughts is interrupted by one more breaking glass noise coming from behind me. I turn around only to be met by a right hook to my face.

After falling back to the ground, I sense a taste of iron in my mouth. And passing my hand over my lips, I find drops of blood on it.

Split lips. Crap.

"_Wow, even easier than I expected,_" a new feminine voice says.

I turn towards the new voice and find it's another Slitherer. This one is another woman, slightly taller than Annette, with the same armor everyone but Lion is wearing and the same mask as Tigress. No weapons that I can see, though. Either she's a mage or a fistfighter.

And judging by that punch of hers, my money is on the latter.

"_Oh, well,_" the new Slitherer sighs as she comes closer. "_Time to go, Outworlder._"

Oh, hell no!

Acting as fast as I can, I wrap my legs around one of hers and then roll over. She yelps as the sudden motion makes her lose her footing.

"_Hey! Weren't you supposed _not _to be a fighter?_"

"Shut up," I hiss at her. "What do you people want from me?"

For a moment, she just looks at me, her mask hiding whatever face she's making. Then, she chuckles. "_Sorry, can't answer that. Orders from above, old timer._"

…'old timer'? How young is she even supposed to-?

"Argh!"

A chop to my knee forces me to relent my grip, and the Slitherer takes the chance to roll away from me, flip back on her feet and assume a combat position.

Fuck! She played me like an idiot!

"_Come on,_" she challenges. "_Show me what you've got._"

What?

"_Come on, I don't want to pass the chance for a good scrap. Make my day, old timer!_"

...I don't know what sort of moron I'm dealing with, but I sure as heck won't pass the chance to fight back. Just gotta hope her confidence is misplaced.

I get back on my feet again and take the guard stance I learned practicing karate.

The odds are not exactly in my favor. This Slitherer's advantages: she's a smaller target and clearly more experienced than me in an actual battle in almost every aspect. My only one is the fact being taller gives me more reach. And potentially her cockiness.

Ok first things first: don't give her breathing room. If she gets me on the defensive, I'm finished. Second thing: plan of attack. First step is distracting her with a feint. But what sort of attack should I make that she won't…?

"_Don't think about what you're doing. Just do it. Having your mind focused on something other than the battle you're fighting is the worst mistake you could do._"

...alright, Cat.

Without wasting any more time, I charge at the Slitherer, a right hook of my own prepared.

She reacts in time and parries it out of her way. Using the momentum of that push, I turn to the side, lift my left leg and aim a kick at her abdomen.

Which actually connects. Yes!

The Slitherer stumbles a few steps backwards after that, taking deep breaths.

"_Hey...not bad, old timer,_" she wheezes, the smugness not leaving her voice. "_Think you can do it again?_"

Oh, I will, you sassy thug.

Readying another punch, I charge at her again. Again, she sees the attack coming, but this time she doesn't just parry it. She grabs my wrist.

"_What an amateur move._" she clicks her tongue. "_Never expect one trick to work twice._"

Crap.

After saying that, she pulls me closer to her, brings my arm over her shoulder and…

Oh God, please no!

"Argh!" I shout as my elbow connects with her shoulder, dislocating the articulation in the process.

After she lets go of my arm, I clutch it to my side, hissing in pain.

A kick to the face, however, prevents me from reacting further, as I fall to the ground for the third time tonight.

Shit. Now it was me who got cocky.

From above me, I hear the Slitherer clapping her hands.

"_Well, congratulations, Outworlder,_" she says, a mocking tone in her voice. "_You're a failure at fistfighting._"

…

I start gathering magic after the bitch's snide comment. Meanwhile, she grabs me by my shirt's collar and lifts me to her eye level.

"_Now,_" she says sounding bored, "_If you're done messing around, it's time to leave._"

"How about dis, instead?!" I snarl, placing a hand in front of her chest.

_KRRAACK_

At first, the slithering whore doesn't react to being hit point-blank by my spell. Then, her hand starts trembling, eventually letting me go.

As she takes a few unsteady steps backwards, I get to see the result of that Thunder: a gaping hole in her chest, around the area where her trachea is supposed to be, with burnt flesh marking the inside of that hole.

She looks to me, her mask making whatever her expression is impossible to see. She makes a few unintelligible gurgling sounds, each shorter and quieter than the previous. And then she falls to the soil, her body not moving in the slightest. Perfectly still. Forever.

…

I have never taken a life before. I have only ever heard stories on what killing for the first time is like. Stories of how it can change you.

So why am I not feeling anything?

As thoughts like that swirl in my mind, I barely acknowledge the blade that strikes my back before passing out.

* * *

[Shamir]

I roll out of the way of yet another Miasma, angling it so I get slightly closer to the tall woman.

Something is not right with all of this. That thing she did earlier was no ordinary magic. To make it work she must be either powerful or ingenious. Both possibilities that would imply combat spells more potent than mere Miasmas. So why is she sticking to them?

Perhaps this is a trick to lure me towards some glyph or magical trap near her. But even without asking when she could have possibly set them up, there should be some sign on the ground that something is not right. Suspiciously barren corners of soil, drier grass or something. But there is nothing around her.

The only other thing I can think of is she's pacing herself in order not to exhaust herself too quickly. But even if that's the case, she must have realized by now it's not going to work. What game is she playing?

At the corner of my vision, I see Hanneman is faring worse than I am. Tigress is dodging his more powerful spells with an ease that shouldn't be possible, while his weakest are being casually parried with that sword of hers. Must be enchanted to resist magical attacks.

And Hanneman starting to pant suggests he isn't likely to last much longer. He wasn't at full strength before, but the amount of spells he's dishing out right now are probably draining him even more. And the fact Tigress has yet to go on the offensive suggests she might know this as well.

In that case, I need to finish Lion off right now, or in a few moments I'll have to deal with both of them at the same time.

Swiping below another Miasma, I finally get within striking range and aim my knife towards Lion's ribcage.

The knife never meets its target. My lunge is stopped by Lion grabbing my wrist and holding it with a strength that...she shouldn't have. She is tall, but also not that muscular. How is she-?

"_It's amazing, isn't it?_" she chuckles darkly. "_How much strength even a fragment of Blaiddyd's Crest can grant?_"

What?

Before I can do anything, Lion twists my wrist and I fail to keep a cry of pain as I feel it snap. That cry is then silenced when a punch to the sternum forces the air out of me. A punch followed by a backhand to my face.

After that, it's all a blur of punches to either my torso or my face, each one coming so quickly after the previous that I barely manage to acknowledge them all, the pain slowly numbing my senses.

When Lion finally stops and lets go of my arm, I fail to stand on my feet and fall to my knees. Fresh blood is spilling below me and I can't feel my right hand.

Gathering what strength I still have, I raise my head to look at Lion. She isn't doing anything else now, just looking at me silently with her arms crossed, the knuckles of her right hand bloodied.

My attention is only drawn away when I hear a sound of thunder in the distance.

"_That's the signal,_" I hear Tigress say. "_They got him. It's time for us to retreat._"

Damnation…

"_Oh, not just yet,_" Lion hisses, "_I've got one last thing to do with her._"

Before I can do anything to stop her, Lion grabs me by the neck and waist and lifts me over her head.

"_Lion! What are you doing?!_"

"_Settling a score._"

She lets me go. The last thing I feel before passing out is a sharp pain on the lower end of my spine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand, that's it. End of the chapter. Hope you all enjoy cliffhangers. *runs to the nearest bunker*
> 
> I would like to thank 16th-Beat and Stormtide Leviathan for betareading this chapter. Join us at the TreeHouse Discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> Until next time, guys!


	19. Interlude 3-Aftermath

[Catherine]

Man, what a night. With Shamir, Alois and Eugenio all still out there, the only one I had left to talk with was Gilbert. The man is about as much of a joy to be around as a tombstone.

I went to the training grounds to let out some steam. I know Shamir and Eugenio walked out of that avalanche fine, but I can't help but worry all the same. Just as I am going back to my room to rest, I walk into the last person I was expecting.

"Oh hey, Nebail," I chuckle at the guy, "What takes you away from your gatekeeping duties?"

It is at that moment, however that I realize he's panting. What could be so urgent that he's running at this hour?

"I'm sorry...Dame Catherine," he says between heavy breaths. "You need...to follow...me."

I furrow my brow. "Why? What's going on?"

"The Blue Lions...have been attacked...by assassins."

My eyes widen immediately. "What?!"

* * *

Past the initial shock, the situation was straightforward enough; the Lions had been ambushed in the forest just outside the town but were able to repel them. However, to my dismay, Shamir and Eugenio have been critically injured in the process. And they now need stretchers to be moved.

Nebail and I quickly gathered some Knights and healers and now we're all following the student they sent ahead to inform us (Ashe Ubert. Lonato's adopted son…).

The boy, his classmates and their professor weren't too injured. Tears and some minor damage to their gear, plus some minor bruises. Shamir and Eugenio though...

At the news they had been badly hurt, I thought I'd be ready to see it for myself.

I wasn't.

"What in the Goddess' name…?" I whisper aloud, my eyes widening at the scene in front of me.

Eugenio is laying on his chest. His face is bruised, but those bruises are nothing compared to the extended gash running across his back.

Shamir...Shamir is far worse off. Her face has been reduced to one gigantic bruise and her right wrist is twisted at an unnatural angle. And that's not to mention the protrusion I see on her back.

"What the hell did they do to them?" I ask as I also clench my fists.

"One of the assassins had cornered Mister Eugenio," the girl with braided blonde hair (Ingrid I think is her name?) answers. "He managed to beat her, but another one threw an axe at his back."

Cowardly bastard!

"As for Dame Shamir…" Professor Hanneman starts but then hesitates.

"What?" I ask nervously. It's not a good sign if someone as talkative as him hesitates.

"She and I had been cut off by two other assassins," he sighs, avoiding eye contact with me, "One of them got to her and she-" he gulps, "She…"

"What?!" I demand, hurrying the old windbag. What the hell have they done to my partner?!

"She broke her back."

At first, I didn't register it. Someone broke Shamir's back? No, that can't be right. She's tougher than that. No way she's-

"We tried to help as best as we could," the ginger girl's (I think her name is Annette?) agitated words snap me out of it. "But without proper help…"

I take a deep breath before intervening. "I know."

After that, the healers pick the two up and go ahead back to the Monastery. According to them, the students' intervention might have just saved Eugenio's life. But for Shamir...praying is the only thing that can be done for her back right now.

Those who did this to her had better hope I never find them. I swear I will tear them to shreds. Bare-handed if I have to!

Thankfully, with the injuries Hanneman and the students got, all the medical personnel can go ahead. All they really need at the moment is for the Knights to escort them.

"Dame Catherine," Hanneman says as he places a hand on my shoulder, "Before we get back to Garreg Mach, might I have a word with you?"

"Can it wait, Professor?" I reply, trying to shrug his hand off, "I'm a little more concerned with-"

"It can't," he cuts me off as he tightens his grip on my shoulder. Just as I'm about to swat it away, he leans closer to my ear and whispers, "It involves our mutual Italian friend."

That freezes me in place. How does he know that?

"You all go ahead," I tell the other Knights and the students. "We'll be right behind you."

My fellow Knights give me some curious looks but don't say anything. The students don't react at all. They then all leave me alone with the professor, to whom I immediately frown.

"Alright, talk," I tell him, "How do you know about Eugenio's origins?"

He rubs the back of his neck nervously. "_That_ is a complicated story. And not the one I wanted to tell you."

I arch an eyebrow and cross my arms. "And what would that one be?"

"These assassins that attacked us were not actually assassins," he begins, "They were here to take Eugenio."

They what?

"Are you sure?"

"They said so themselves," he answers, a frown on his face. "And what's more, I think he recognized them."

"Recognized?" I ask bewildered. "Are you saying they are other Italians?"

He shakes his head. "That I can not say. They didn't talk with his same accent and Eugenio didn't say what they were called. What he did say was that they are responsible for kidnapping and conducting torturous experiments on people, potentially to their deaths."

Goddess almighty, what have we stumbled on?

* * *

[Tigress]

When I heard that thunderclap, I truly believed it was the signal we had agreed upon. I truly believed Lynx had seized the Outworlder and Cheetah was telling us to break off.

I was not expecting _this_.

"We're too late," Lion wailes as her whole posture sinks, White Magic dissipating from her hands. "She's dead."

"No!" Cheetah explodes as he grabs Lion by her robe. "Don't say that! Get back to healing her right now!"

"I can't!" Lion protests. "The Outworlder's spell burned through her trachea and larynx! She choked before you even got her here!"

Cheetah raises a fist to her face. "Don't you dare...!"

Thankfully, Panther grabs his arm before the situation degenerates.

"Brother," he tells Cheetah, "This isn't going to help."

I restrain myself from chastising him for calling him 'brother'. Now is not the time.

"Then what will, Myron?" Cheetah snaps as he breaks out of his brother's grip and lets Lion go. "Lia is gone! Our own little sister, killed under our very eyes!"

Definitely going to restrain myself here as well.

"I know, but…" Myron tries to say.

"Or do you not care at all?! Did she mean so little to...?"

At that, Myron also snaps, "Don't you dare even finish that phrase, Michail!" he raises an accusatory finger at his brother. "Of course I care!"

"Then how are you not angry?" Michail snarls back. "Why should _I_ not be angry?"

"You have every right to be," I intervene, before this escalates further. Immediately all three of them turn to me. "And in case you didn't notice, your brother is also angry. But consider this; how is starting fights amongst ourselves going to be of any use to Lynx?"

"Oh, what a genius question!" Michail scoffs as he raises his hands and turns his glare to me. "How is it going to help Lia? Well guess what: it won't! And you know why?!"

I don't respond to his question. Which has the effect of him raising his voice even more.

"Because she's fucking _dead_! Nothing I can do will help her!"

Right after saying that, his glare starts wavering, with the corners of his mouth falling downwards and his body shaking.

"You are right," I say in a low voice. "She's dead. And unfortunately lashing out at others will not bring her back." I turn my gaze towards Myron. "But you do not have to go through this alone."

Tears start forming in the eyes of both men.

"Lion and I will give you a moment," I gesture to her to come to me, which she does, "Mourn for your sister. Remember her. But don't let her loss turn you two on each other."

Lion and I then walk away, giving the two brothers the space they need.

And also giving me the chance to do what I must.

"I've got to say," Lion starts, "That was a lovely-"

My backhanded slap to her face cuts her off. My hand hurts afterwards, but I can take it.

"What the heck?!" Lion complains as she starts massaging her jaw. "What did you do that for?!"

I cross my arms and glare at her. "You know very damn well."

"Uh…" she looks at me quizzically. "No, I don't?"

I arch an eyebrow. "So do you not remember what happened with the Dagdan?"

Realization immediately comes to her face at that. "Oh, _that_! Well, you had me promise no one would die, so…"

I slap her with the other hand.

"Okay." she massages her jaw again. "I think I got the memo."

"You had better," I hiss. "So, tell me, what do you think you've accomplished by doing that?"

She does not falter at my question. "I avenged Abzu, of course."

"So you have," I concede while gritting my teeth. "And what good did that accomplish, besides momentary satisfaction?"

She winces at my words. "Momentary?"

"Yes," I confirm. "When it wears off and you realize you haven't changed our circumstances, what will you do?" I point in the distance. "Go out there and sever Essar's limbs? Crush the Outworlder's skull? Set that town on fire?"

"No!" she exclaims, a dejected look on her face. "Of course not! Why would you even think that?"

"Wouldn't you, _Doctor_?" her eyes widen at hearing her old title. "Because that is not what I saw tonight."

"I…" she hesitates.

"Listen well," I sneer, "I can understand grieving. But I can not condone wanton harm to other people." I raise my index finger. "You have one last chance to prove you actually belong in our group. Waste it, and you are finished with us. Not even the Master's word will protect you."

Lion gulps when I'm finished. "I understand."

* * *

[Solon]

"Is it ready?" I impatiently demand as my subordinates finish setting up the Sending Chamber.

The foreman tenses before uttering, "Yes, sir! The crystals are connected to Shambhala's network! You can activate them at any time!"

"Good." I nudge towards the door. "Then leave. And don't disturb me for _anything_."

"Understood, sir!" the man replies before leaving the chamber, his crew right behind him. I make sure to lock the door after they've left.

Today's developments have been less than ideal. While the tramp's continued stay at this Monastery ultimately did draw out those who summoned him to Fódlan, they turned out to be a much less stealthy bunch than anyone had imagined. And now, because of their callousness, all of the Agarthans are at risk.

Still...at least there can be no mistaking what that 'Demonic Wyvern' was. I was right from the start: she lives. And it seems she's not alone. Something the Council needs to know.

Three taps on the node with my cane are all it takes to power up the six tall crystals carefully placed at the edges of this chamber, and they start glowing with purple light, ready to conjure the projections of my fellows.

The Sage of Defense, Chilon, is the first to answer my call.

"_Solon,_" he neutrally greets me, hands resting on the pommel of his Bolt Axe. "_I trust there is a reason for this breach of protocol?_"

"There is," I confirm, keeping gaze with him. "An emergency that concerns all of us."

"Hmmm," is all he replies with, not one muscle of his body moving.

The next to answer is the Sage of Espionage, Myson.

"_What is it?_" he snarls as soon as his projection appears. "_I'm busy right now!_"

"It can wait," I cut him off, "This is more important than your chase of rumors."

He glares at me after those words. "_How dare you insult-?_"

"_Ahem,_" the latest arrival, Odesse, the Sage of Crests, cuts him off, "_Gentlemen. What is going on here?_"

"_We are waiting for the others,_" Chilon simply answers him.

"_I believe that is obvious, my dear,_" Bias, the Sage of Science, chuckles as she appears.

All chatter is silenced when our leader, the Lord Agastya Thales himself, makes his entrance. His brow is furrowed as his cold blank eyes scan all of us as he takes in who of the Council is present.

"_Where is Pittacus?_" is the first thing he says.

"_Oh, the usual,_" Bias flippantly replies, although with a hint of coldness in her voice. "_Taking her sweet time._"

Thales snorts at that, quickly followed by a scoff from Myson and a click of the tongue from Chilon.

I merely tap the pommel of my cane impatiently.

It takes a little while longer for the Sage of Technology to actually show up.

"_Greetings,_" she yawns. "_What did you all interrupt my nap for?_"

I can't help but groan at her question. A sentiment echoed by my fellow Sages.

"_I believe that is up to Solon to explain,_" Thales replies before turning to me, "_So what is it? What do you have to say that requires a meeting such as this?_"

I clear my throat at his prompt. "I have grim news regarding the outsider I've been keeping an eye on. Those who took him here have revealed themselves. There are traitors in our ranks."

Every last member tenses at my words, even the sleepwalking Pittacus. The faces of all fall, except for Thales, who instead narrows his eyes at me.

"_Explain._"

I proceed to relating all that has transpired in the last few days. Of how the tramp was asked to join the Blue Lions on their mission. Of how I consented after he gave me the details. Of how he and the Lions returned. And, most importantly, of what I could gather from the whelps' report.

Their reactions are more or less what I was expecting.

"_A Demonic Beast engineered from wyvern bones?_"

"_Wind Magic used to speak in their heads?_"

"_An assassin with enchanted weaponry?_"

"Indeed," I respond to all their questions. "And there is little doubt of who one of them is."

Everyone quiets down at my statement, all waiting for me to elaborate.

"Even if the creature they set loose was not proof of her handiwork in this, the description of this 'Lion' leaves little to the imagination," I sneer, the thought of the woman sending shivers of rage into my very being. "A tall bluenette woman capable of impressive magical feats." I check everyone's reactions before continuing. Some have understanding in their eyes. But not all.

"It is as I suspected," I conclude. "Doctor Selene yet lives."

"_Impossible!_" Myson immediately scoffs. "_We all saw to it that woman burned with her workshop!_"

"_That is not correct,_" Chilon intervenes, his voice slightly above a whisper. "_We confirmed her workshop was destroyed. We never confirmed whether she was among those who died in it._" he glances around before continuing. "_The question is 'who were the others?'_"

"_I may have an idea,_" Bias states, her brow furrowed in thought as she turns to me. "_You said the swordswoman, Tigress, seemed to be the leader of these 'Night Cats'?_"

I nod. "So they claimed."

Bias clicks her tongue in disapproval, even though a smirk is on her face.

"_Oh, Atalanta,_" I hear her mutter. "_You never were as clever as you thought._"

What is she on about? Who's 'Atalanta'?

Thales narrows his eyes at her. "_You know who she is?_"

"_It is a stretch,_" she answers, "_But, there used to be a sword-wielding operative under my command. One who had enough of an obsession with felines to give a group lead by her a ridiculous name._"

"_The same operative that made your experiment escape?_" Pittacus dully asks.

Bias does her best to hide it, but the twitch in her smirk is far too evident.

"_Indeed,_" she hisses.

Oh, I see.

There is a moment of silence after Bias' answer, the new information settling in for all of us.

If I remember correctly, that incident Pittacus mentioned happened four years ago. One before Selene was marked for death. Which must mean Bias' former operative was the one who first recruited her. But who were the other three? And could there be more?

"_That doesn't account for the other three,_" Thales breaks the silence, parroting my thoughts, as he looks over us. "_If anyone has reports of treacherous agents they want to share, now is the time._"

"_...I may have something,_" Chilon intervenes as he rubs his chin. "_Treachery doesn't have anything to do with this, but it is still an odd occurrence._"

"_You seriously want to waste our time with…?_" Myson begins but is cut off by Thales' raised hand.

"_Speak._"

"_Two years ago, two of my scouts went missing during a mission in Edmund territory,_" Chilon explains. "_Normally this would just be an unfortunate but not unusual occurrence, but these two were a pair of twin brothers, with a younger sister still in training back at Shambhala. She disappeared without a trace three days after they went missing._"

"_I see,_" Thales snorts before turning to the others. "_Anything else?_"

None of us answer his prod.

"_Very well,_" he sighs as he focuses on me again. "_Do you have more to add, Solon? Anything about why these renegades came out of hiding or what they want with the rat?_"

I purse my lips at that. This is the part whose authenticity I can't be certain of. But its grave nature makes it imperative I share it nonetheless.

"The Archbishop is trying to keep quiet about this detail," I start, "But I have gathered some rumors from the whelps. A possible reason for what they wanted him for."

"_Which is…?_"

"He recognized them."

My statement leaves confused looks on the other Sages' faces.

"_You mean he lied about not knowing who took him here?_" Odesse asks, tilting his head.

"Possibly," I concede, "But from the sound of it, he accused them of conducting experiments on the surface beasts. And from the sound of it, he might have referred to the experiments that were made to create the Flame Emperor."

The entirety of the Council pales at my words, the implications of my assumptions more than clear for them.

Thales is the first to recover and asks, with a warning tone. "_Are you_ absolutely _sure of what you're saying?_"

I shake my head. "I am not. But consider this; if there weren't truth to this, why would the Archbishop bother trying to hide this?"

My fellow Sages start sharing perplexed looks amongst themselves, with the exception of Odesse, who merely looks lost in thought, and Chilon, who has only tightened the grip on his weapon.

"_Lord Thales, what should we do?_" Myson finally asks the Agastya after a while.

"_We adapt to this new development,_" he answers matter of factly, brow furrowed as he turns to him. "_First of all, your search for the Fetters of Dromi will have to stop._"

Myson all but jumps. "_What?! You can't! Do you have any idea how long I've been after them?! I'm so close to-_"

"_You were,_" Thales cuts him off, a threatening note in his voice, "_But circumstances have changed. You will now go to the Oghma Mountains and you will search for the Night Cats._"

"_But-_"

"_Am I understood?_" the Agastya growls.

Myson tries to muster one more argument, but ultimately relents to Thales' orders.

"_Chilon,_" he turns to him, "_I task you with going through every case of agents gone rogue or missing. Do not rest until you can provide an exhaustive list of how many traitors we are dealing with._"

He bows solemnly to him. "_Your will shall be done._"

"_Bias,_" he turns to her, "_Make sure no one in the Kingdom tries anything. The last thing we need is their knights seeking retribution._"

"_It will be my pleasure,_" the woman chuckles.

"_Pittacus and Odesse,_" he turns to the two, "_You will keep an eye out for any activity that might be related to the traitors in the Empire and Alliance respectively._"

Odesse's posture stiffens. "_As you command, my lord._"

"_Must I?_" Pittacus listlessly answers. "_I've already got my hands full as is and…_"

The Agastya silences her with a glare.

"_Fine,_" she sighs.

"_And Solon,_" he finally turns to me, "_I expect you to keep an even closer look on the outsider. And to inform me whether he reveals anything about us or not._"

"Of course," I bow as well, "And what of the Flame Emperor?"

"_If she asks anything, stall her until further notice. We don't need our hound to catch a scent of our own blood._"

"As you say."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And chapter. We see the aftermath of last chapter's battle. Some more far reaching than others. Strap in, folks. Things are gonna escalate soon.
> 
> Thanks again to softandhappy (aka 16th-Beat) and Stormtide Leviathan for betareading. Join us at the TreeHouse Discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> See you next time, guys!


	20. Chapter 17-Change

"_Hello? Is someone out dere?"_

_No one answers. Not a sound is heard within this forest I've been wandering for God-knows-how long. Not even a breath of wind._

"_Come on, someone please answer me! Professor? Shamir? Anyone?!"_

_Silence._

_I don't like this. Not one bit. One moment I was with the Blue Lions, and then I was here. How? Why?_

_The starless night sky above me doesn't put me any more at ease. Back in my world, the absence of stars was because of the light pollution. You had to go to remote areas to even glimpse only the brightest of stars. But that was not Fódlan. Fódlan has always had stars-filled skies. So what changed now?_

_At some point, my wandering leads me somewhere where the soil feels...different from the rest. It's...smoother. And harder._

_And, as I kneel to better look at it, I realize something. Something that startles and confuses me even more._

_It's not the same kind of soil I've been marching with the convoy on these past few days. It's asphalt. In the middle of Fódlan._

_What the absolute hell is going on here?_

_Right as I ask myself that, my attention is caught by a sound. The first sound I've heard ever since coming to this maze of trees._

_Honking._

_I turn in the direction of the anachronistic sound, and far in the distance I catch sight of lights within the dark._

_With no better alternative, I sprint in the direction of those lights. As I get closer and closer to them, their brightness steadily increases and, for some reason, the vegetation starts thinning out._

_I realize why that is only when I stop my sprint._

_Standing before me is the street where I live. Same lanes, same traffic lights, same streetlights, and same buildings that make for the neighborhood. Including the one I live in._

_My heart almost jumps in my throat. I'm...home? This...this is…_

_Wait! There wasn't a forest where I lived! This can't be…_

_Turning around, I find that the forest is gone. There are still the few trees and bushes this street has always had, but nothing too extravagant._

_No idea what's going on here. And honestly? I don't care. This whole ordeal with Fódlan and the Church of Seiros is finally over! I'm finally ho-_

_A loud roar cuts off my line of thought. A roar I heard once before and had hoped to never hear again._

_And right after it, a pillar of dark flames comes down from the sky, forming a large ring of black and purple fire around me._

_And outside of the ring, to my horror, lands the same monster that attacked me and the Blue Lions. Same draconic body, same black fleshy skin, same baleful red eyes._

_It roars at me. A loud, guttural roar filled with malice I can only recoil at._

_And then, if at all possible, I'm scared even more by another sound. That of glass breaking behind me. Or at least, one that resembles that._

"Oh, poor poor Eugenio." _I turn around at the sound of Lion's distorted voice mocking me, the sight of the tall witch in front of me sending shivers down my spine. "_Did you really think I had only one pet to throw around?"

_Four more of that sound occur around me. I glance around and my fears are quickly confirmed. It's Tigress and the other Night Cats. Including the one I...I…_

"And did you think," _the short one says, pointing at the hole in her chest. "_That you could just walk away after _this_, old timer? That you could return to the life you knew with blood on your hands?"

_I can only gulp at that question._

"_And even if that weren't the case, did you really think you could stay hidden in the corners?"_

_The new voice catches me by surprise and I hastily turn to him. It can't be! How did he even appear without making that sound?_

"_That we would let you, after all the trouble we went through to take you here?" Solon snickers, the usual kind expression I've seen him wear thus far replaced by a sinister smirk and a devious gleam in his eyes._

"_How…?"_

_I'm cut off by a hand grabbing my face with a speed an old man shouldn't be capable of. A gloved hand instead of the naked one he'd usually have. And between his fingers, I manage to glimpse Solon's true appearance. The wide wrinkles, the balding pale blue hair, those uncanny eyes…_

"_No, you ignorant beast," Solon notes with an air of amusement. "Now you are part of this too."_

"_Why…?" I try to ask, his hand muffling my voice._

"_You will see," Solon cackles as he starts clenching his grip on my face, air struggling to enter my nose and mouth._

* * *

I gasp for breath as consciousness returns to me and my eyes go wide open. What greets me is not a forest or modern buildings. It's a ceiling.

"Where…?" I mutter. "What…?"

"Ah, good afternoon, Mister Eugenio," A...familiar voice says from my right. "It is Eugenio, isn't it? I don't think we have met before."

Slowly, I turn my head. There is a woman by my side. A woman with a green dress that leaves her...assets more exposed than decorum would usually allow. Covering her shoulders, there's a white coat with orange ornaments.

What tells me who exactly this woman is, however, is the matching brown colour of her eyes and hair and the orange make-up around her eyes and on her lips.

"Professor Manuela?" I ask.

"Oh, you know me?" she replies, a smile on her face.

Ignoring her reaction, I test what material I'm currently lying on. It's soft, too soft to be soil. It feels like a...mattress?

A mattress...and now that I think of it, I shouldn't be at the level of Manuela's chest if I were on the ground. The game said she was one of the tallest women in the cast.

So...a bed of some kind? And if Manuela's here, this can be only one of two places: the infirmary or her room.

I look at my surroundings. All I can see are other beds, lockers, and boards with some kind of bottles on top of them. Judging by the fact the place isn't nearly as much of a mess as Manuela's room is said to be and the bottles aren't the alcoholic kind, it's got to be the former.

But...how did I get here?

Okay, let's try to remember. The Lions and I were cut off from Hanneman and Shamir. Two more of those Slitherers cut the Lions off from me. I tried to fight off a fifth and then I…

_She looks to me, her mask making whatever her expression is impossible to see. She makes a few unintelligible gurgling sounds, each shorter and quieter than the previous. And then she falls to the soil, her body not moving in the slightest. Perfectly still. Forever._

I…

_I have never taken a life before. I have only ever heard stories about what killing for the first time is like. Stories of how it can change you._

_So why am I not feeling anything?_

…

"Hey, are you okay?"

Manuela's question manages to snap me out of it. "I'm fine," I reply as I turn back to her, her previous smile now replaced by a concerned look. "Just trying to remember how I got here."

Her face becomes neutral as she crosses her arms. "Well, I would be surprised if you remembered since you were unconscious when you did."

What? How did that happen?

"What's the last thing you remember?"

I gulp at her question, my mind going back to those memories again.

"De Blue Lions and I were attacked," I explain. "I got in a fight wit one of our attackers and…"

_"How about dis, instead?!" I snarl, placing a hand in front of her chest._

"And...dat's it." I lie.

At first, Manuela arches an eyebrow and gives me an inquisitive look that makes me worry she's going to ask more. But thankfully, she relents after a few moments.

"Well, in any case," she says, "While you were fighting, another one of your attackers threw an axe at you and hit you in the back."

I look at her in disbelief. "What?!"

"Yeah." she awkwardly replies. "It left a rather nasty slash on your back and it knocked you out there and then."

I look at my chest and, at that very moment, I realize my usual tunic is gone and I'm bare-chested. Or rather, I would be if it weren't for the bandages covering me. Looking further down, the pants seem to still be on at least.

"Don't worry," Manuela giggles, "I'm a professional."

Yeah, a professional with no issue getting constantly drunk and following an unhealthy search for a husband.

"In any case..." I intervene, trying to move the conversation away from...that. "What else happened? I don't suppose dose people just up and left after dat?"

To my surprise, Manuela's expression falls at my questions, "Actually, that is more or less what happened, according to the students."

I look at her in confusion, "I'm sorry, what?"

The Slitherers come out in the open for me, go through so much effort to try and capture me and when they've got me knocked down they just leave? That makes no sense.

Manuela twirls a lock of her hair. "Strange as it may sound, it's true. They broke off their attack and ran away. Almost got the last laugh, though. Had it not been for Miss Mercedes, you and Dame Shamir may not have made it to the Monastery."

...guess me revealing I know who they are made them decide they don't necessarily need me alive.

Still...Mercedes…

_"You tink you know me?" I whisper, "You tink you understand what it is I'm going trough, Mercedes _von Bartels_?"_

_She freezes at hearing that name._

_"You tink escaping House Bartels with your moder by your side compares to my situation?" I continue, slowly rising in volume, "To being taken away by your homeland wit no clue of what happened and being left wit finding your own way, in a land of strangers who don't speak your language or even ever heard of where you came from, _alone_?"_

I massage the bridge of my nose. God-fucking-dammit, did I really slip like that? I thought I had grown better than this! Mercedes of all people didn't deserve that!

Wait a moment! What did Manuela just say?

"Me and Dame Shamir?" I ask, my brow furrowing at the ex-performer. "What happened to Shamir?"

Manuela freezes at my question and tries to avoid making eye contact with me. Which only serves to worry me more.

"What happened?" I insist.

Manuela doesn't say anything. Instead, she circles around my bed and gets to the other side of it. It is then that I notice there's a curtain separating the bed I'm on from the one next to me.

"This might be a bit of a shock," she warns, now looking me in the eye with that very same sad look.

I can only gulp at her warning. Just what happened to Shamir to warrant all this dancing around?

"I'm ready." I probably am not. But whatever happened to her, I doubt there's a way to be ready for it. Better I just see it. "Show me."

"Very well," Manuela sighs before pulling the curtain, revealing exactly what Shamir has been reduced to.

"Santiddio!"

Her usual attire has been replaced by a white tunic, not unlike one you'd see on patients in a hospital. That she allowed it to be changed in that is the first sign of how badly she's been reduced.

Her right hand is in a cast, her fingers so enveloped in it they can't possibly move. Her face has taken an unnatural purple colouring, with her nose set at an angle it wasn't originally. Her breaths come out weakly, with her brow furrowing a few times when they do.

She doesn't seem to be conscious. But her closed swollen eyes do not make it clear if that's true.

"What de hell did dey do to her?" I ask bewildered.

Manuela looks at me, with a look in her eyes that seems to say 'it isn't pretty'. "Are you sure you want to know?"

I nod. I don't think I actually want to. But I must.

Manuela then sighs and points at Shamir's bandaged hand. "Broken wrist."

Clenching my fists is the reaction I have at hearing that.

She points at Shamir's chest. "Cracked sternum and four cracked ribs."

My body starts shaking at that one.

She points at her face "Broken nose plus several bruises covering her whole face."

"Maledetti figli di puttana." I mutter in a low voice.

"And that is not even the worst part," the former songstress concludes.

I arch an eyebrow as I turn to her. What could exactly be worse than getting all of that?

Manuela then points towards Shamir's...butt? I swear if this is gonna be a sex joke or some other crap like that…!

"They hit her spine, causing severe damage to the nerves passing through them. Permanent damage."

...what did I just hear?

"Are you saying…?" I intervene, dread filling my voice, "Dey paralyzed her?"

Manuela doesn't answer. She merely closes her eyes and lowers her head.

…

Time seems to freeze as that news hits me. After all, I did to prevent events from deviating from how they were supposed to go, this was the final result? Shamir beaten half to death and no longer able to walk when she was supposed to survive at least until the timeskip? Shamir, one of the first faces I met...one of the few friends I made, crippled for life?

No...no, no, no! This can't be real! This isn't what was supposed to happen!

"No!" I snap as I shoot up from my bed. Which turns out to be a bad idea as pain spreads all across my back and forces me to hiss.

"Easy, easy." Manuela chastises me as she rushes to my side, the warm feeling of Healing Magic washing away the pain. "If you stress your back too much, you'll reopen your wound."

Yeah, I figured that one out.

"I'm sorry." I tell her, "But Shamir…"

"Hmmm"

As if on cue, the archer begins to stir, her eyes struggling to open. And seeing a woman as strong and confident as her, being unable to do something that simple...it hurts to watch.

Manuela immediately lets me be and rushes to her side.

"Easy, Dame Shamir," Manuela tells her as she starts going over her body with her glowing hands.

"Where…?" Shamir asks with a weak voice. A weak voice that has no right to come out of her mouth. "What…?"

"Don't worry," Manuela shushes her before placing a finger between her eyes. "Just go back to sleep."

As if to obey that command, her eyes return closed and she relaxes again, her labored breathing the only sign of pain she shows.

Good lord, why did this have to happen to her?

Manuela turns back to me once she's made sure Shamir is sleeping again. "I'm sorry you had to see that," she tells me. "I can close the curtain again if you wish."

I shake my head. Pretending this isn't real won't help either of us.

"Alright," she sighs, "Just...let her rest okay?"

I nod and she leaves me alone with Shamir.

…

Shamir is probably one of the toughest ladies here at Garreg Mach. A war veteran who lost a partner and lover to the Adrestian Empire. And from what I gathered with the available information surrounding her and what she said, former street urchin, who grew into the mercenary she is today. One of the few people in the game who had their baggage of issues but knew how to work through it.

And now, she has been reduced to this. And if I hadn't gone with the Blue Lions, the Slitherers wouldn't have come after me, wouldn't have attacked the group, and wouldn't have paralyzed her.

This is all my fault.

I'm not sure how much time I spend watching Shamir as raising and lowering her chest are the only things she does in her condition. The one thing I do know is that my attention is drawn away from her only when I hear an excited voice I'm all too familiar with.

"Glad to see you're okay!" Alois says as he grabs me in a bear-hug. One that makes me wince as the pain in my back comes again.

"Easy there, Alois," a smiling Catherine intervenes as she tries to loosen his grip on me, "You don't want to be scolded by Manuela."

"Oh, right, sorry!" he lets me go, "How are you doing, Eugenio?"

"...physically, I'll recover," is what I reply in a low voice, unable to share in the two's joy. I turn back to Shamir before continuing. "But _dis_…"

Immediately, the faces of both fall as they also turn to Shamir. Alois sits next to me. Catherine stays where she is. And I stay quiet as I keep watching Shamir.

"Have you been told about…?" Catherine tries to ask, though she's unable to complete her question.

"Yes."

We remain in silence after that. A silence that lasts for a while longer. Until I tell them the one thing that's on my mind right now.

"I'm sorry. I never wanted dis to happen."

Alois places a hand on my shoulder. "It's not your fault," he says in a reassuring tone, "You didn't know your kidnappers would do something like this."

"But I should have," I retort, lowering my head. "All dis time, I've been behind de Monastery's walls. And de moment I stepped out of it…"

"Hey," Alois shaking me interrupts my thoughts, "Everyone here thought the same as you. If anyone should have thought about it, it's us. This is not your fault."

It is, Alois. Not for the reasons you think, but it is. And for your sake, I can't even tell you why.

I mentally sigh. What am I going to do now? The Slitherers won't stop coming because they failed this time. And if I know Rhea, she won't let these events go unpunished. How can I stop future events from changing further? How can I prevent more people from getting hurt because of me?

My mind is turned away from those thoughts when another hand, this one more firm than Alois, comes on my other shoulder. Raising my head, I find Catherine looking at me, a serious expression on her face.

"Look," she says, an authoritative note to her words, "Who is to blame for Shamir's condition doesn't matter. What matters is finding the bastards responsible for it and making them pay. And we need your help to do it."

...fuck, that's right. I called the Slitherers out in front of both Hanneman and the Blue Lions. Of course, they'd report that fact.

Goddammit, how much worse can this get?

"I don't know what kind of help I can be," I sigh, trying not to freak out too much, "What I do actually know about dese people is not much. And besides, dey are only after _me_. Dis is _my_ problem."

"They made it the Church of Seiros' problem too when they attacked innocents," Catherine resolutely retorts, "And the fact you were able to recognize them means what you do know is critical information."

Well, now what do I do? I can not hide the fact I know of the Slitherers. And refusing to share what I know would raise more trouble than it's worth. But if I do share it, Rhea will want me dead the moment she learns I know the history she's tried so hard to hide. And even if she doesn't, the events that are supposed to happen will change. I don't know how, only that they will. And when they do, what then? Will this Fódlan reach the destination it's supposed to?

...unless I contain the damage to just the Slitherers. Not extend it to Edelgard's wider goals or Byleth's situation with the Crest of Flames. It's going to be riskier than anything I've done so far, but it's my best shot at preventing too much of a derail. And I've managed to trick Seteth once before. I can do so with Rhea as well if I play my cards right.

"I assume de Archbishop wants to hear dis too," I tell Catherine, "How soon can she hear me out?"

A satisfied smile comes to her face. "Tomorrow morning."

Good. Enough time to think of what to say but still soon enough.

"Are you sure you want to do this so soon?" Alois suddenly asks me with a concerned tone. Something Catherine reacts to with an incredulous look, "If you need time to process-"

"I don't," I cut him off. The sooner I do this, the least likely I am to lose my nerve, and the sooner I can go back to working at the library and let things go back to normal.

* * *

I may have never read the Hobbit or watched the movies they made out of it, but thanks to social media osmosis I do know who Smaug is and what his deal in that story is. And when you think about it, his lair and Garreg Mach are not so different past the appearance.

Both are ancient. Both reside in the mountains. Both are the home of a cunning dragon with issues against humanity. And both have seen an idiot trying to outsmart said dragon. In Rhea's case, that's me.

These are the kinds of thoughts that go through my head as Alois and Catherine escort me to the Archbishop's chambers the following morning. A place I had hoped not to go again after the day I first arrived. And yet, here I am, with Alois and Catherine by my side.

And as Catherine knocks on the door, a knot instantly forms in my throat. Why did I think this was a good idea again? Rhea is a nutjob way too easy to set off. And if I screw this up…

I shake that thought away. Who am I kidding at this point? I already screwed up with the Night Cats. Now it's a matter of unscrewing things.

"Enter," the serene voice of the lady with mommy issues responds to the knocks. Catherine immediately opens the door and waves at me to enter, which I immediately do. Catherine then closes the door again, her and Alois waiting outside.

What I was expecting to find was just Rhea and Seteth ready to interrogate the living shit out of me and no one else. Instead, standing by them, I find that there are also Hanneman and Dimitri, the latter looking awkwardly at me while the former's posture is slouched down. That coupled with Seteth's...slightly more furrowed brow than usual and Rhea not keeping up that fake serene smile of hers doesn't exactly bode well.

"Welcome, Eugenio." Rhea's greeting at first seems the same kind of cordial as the last time I met her. But that impression quickly fades away when I notice the disappointed look in her eyes. Is she just angry for this whole ordeal the Lions went through? And if not, what have I done?

She gestures at the two actual humans that were already in this room beforehand. "Professor Hanneman and Prince Dimitri have already provided a report of the events that have transpired." she lowers her hand and the same disappointment that I saw in her eyes seeps into her words. "And also of the secret you consciously decided to hide from the Church."

What?! How…?

I glance towards Hanneman. He has his head lowered, refusing to look at me. Which tells me all I need to know.

He cracked. Fuck…

"Lady Rhea, I…" I attempt to say, before the crazed reptile shuts me up with an icy glare.

"I have already heard all that needed to be said," she states matter of factly as she starts walking towards me, "You have knowingly kept secret from the Church the misuse of Relic artifacts. An action that not only was an affront to the same Church that has offered you sanctuary, but also allowed wicked souls to run free on the land protected by the Goddess and harm innocents."

She says all that without ever raising her voice. No angry cracks or any other emotion put into her words. Just a cold, neutral series of statements.

Somehow, that's even worse than her just going apeshit.

"If you wish to atone for this, you shall reveal all that you know about these infidels. And you shall do so at once," she concludes as she stops just a few centimeters from me. She is only a couple of centimeters taller than me. That much I remember from the game. But the look in her eyes makes me feel like an ant next to her.

Okay, better keep my wits together. I've only got one chance to sell what I've come up with. And if I fail I doubt I'm walking out of this place alive now.

"Dere isn't much I know," I start, doing my best to keep an even tone. "What I do know is what little could be gadered about dem across de years."

Rhea has no apparent reaction to my words. She only replies "I said all that you know. Who are these Night Cats?"

Here we go, I guess. Into the dragon's maw. Almost literally.

"De Night Cats demselves are merely agents of a larger group known as 'de Nightcrawlers'," I start. No way I'm risking it by dropping their actual names. And I'm not calling them 'Those Who Slither In The Dark' when there's a chance what I'm saying will reach Edelgard's and Hubert's ears. No matter how slim.

"Nightcrawlers." Not a muscle on Rhea's face moves aside from her mouth as she parrots my words. "Is that what they're called?"

Okay, she isn't calling out lies. Yet. That should mean I can go on with this.

"It's de name dey're commonly referred to." I answer "No one knows what dey're actually called. Or why dey do what dey do."

This way, should the name 'Agarthans' come up, I have a cover for not giving it sooner. And also for Rhea not to suspect I know her people's history with them.

"And what is it they do?" Rhea asks, an impatient note starting to enter her voice.

"Dey are responsible for several people's disappearances," I tell her. "For de longest time all dat was known was dat people were taken by dem and den were never seen again. Dat is until one person - a woman by de name Tara Platt - managed to escape dem and revealed what she saw under deir custody."

Again, Rhea's face remains impassive. She doesn't say anything about my claims. Which I take as a sign to go on.

"She spoke of underground labs where she and oders suffered from experiments. Experiments in which dey were cut open, repeatedly made to bleed or underwent extremely invasive surgeries." At least that's what I'm imagining the experiments Edelgard and the brat went through involved. "She also said dat, during her time dere, she saw dem train horribly disfigured monsters and practice casting strange spells."I pause before saying the part I came up with to justify recognizing them. "Strange spells such as de one used by 'Lion' when she first made contact wit us."

"And I'm assuming that is how you were able to identify them?" Rhea comments with the same steady tone as before.

"Dat," I reply, "Plus deir need to wear masks."

Finally, her face does show some kind of reaction. Just an eyebrow slightly arched, but still something.

"De fact cases of people disappearing could be linked to de Nightcrawlers is tanks to deir peculiar physical features. Skin white as a sheet and unnatural-looking eyes, some wit black sclerae and oders wit no pupils at all."

I'm not sure if it's just my imagination, but Rhea seems to slightly tense at my description of the Slitherers. What I'm sure I'm not imagining is the fact that her eyes seem to unfocus on me. Taking that opportunity, I glance around at the other people in this room. Seteth's brow is much more furrowed than it was before. So is Hanneman's, although he seems more pensive than whatever Seteth is. And Dimitri...Dimitri has tensed and is looking at...nothing in particular. With his gaze not focused at all. As if lost in thoughts. What is he…?

"Are these Nightcrawlers actually humans or are they demons?" Rhea interrupts my thoughts, her whole stance back to business.

I shake my head at her question. "Unknown. Dey could be eider. Or anyting in between. Dey usually come to deir targets, take who dey're after and den disappear before anyone can realize what's happening. No one ever managed to capture one of dem and learn more."

"Hmmm," Rhea replies, her head nodding ever so slightly, "And from what they claimed, you were purposefully brought here. So the question is 'why are you here?'"

That is the one question I couldn't think of an answer to. I'm not especially bright or strong or knowledgeable or important. Even among people who have played this game, there are thousands out there who know more of it than me and can certainly speak English much better than me. Not to mention that if that had been the reason, Lion shouldn't have been surprised by me knowing who they were.

"I have absolutely no idea," I answer. The first honest thing I've told her so far. "I'm noting special back where I lived. De only ting I can tink of is because I know de legends about Fódlan from my homeland. But even den, dere are many more dat know more dan I do."

Again, Rhea doesn't react to that. She just stares at me, her lime eyes drilling holes into mine. It gets so uncomfortable I'm tempted to turn my eyes away from her and yet...I just can't.

"I see," she says when she's finished staring me into the eyes. "So all that you can say about them is what crimes they've committed and what witnesses have seen them do. But not what their actual goals are. Or why they would have an interest in you. Or why they would even come to Fódlan."

I nod. "Dat is correct." I have to hope this is believable enough. The only other explanations I could think of for recognizing the Slitherers were even more convoluted than this.

Rhea takes a step backward. "Then you are at least the closest thing in this land to an expert on them."

I, uh...guess I am? What of it?

"And whatever their reasons may be, the purpose for which they took you must be of the utmost importance if they were willing to reveal themselves like this."

Debatable since apparently, I can do even if not alive. Still...she might be onto something.

"For that reason, I believe your skills are best employed somewhere other than the library."

Wait, what?

"As of now, your place will no longer be by Tomas' side at the library. It will be under Professor Hanneman's tutelage. As one of the Blue Lions."

...it takes me a moment to register what she said. But when it does, the only thing I can do is cry out, "What?! Why?!"

Rhea maintains her composure as she answers. "Because this is not the last we will see of them. They have failed this time. But they will be coming again. And this is the only way to use that fact against them."

I...I can't even…" Are you saying you want to use me as bait for dem?"

Rhea doesn't nod or say anything to confirm my question. But the fact she doesn't do anything to negate it either must mean she just doesn't want to put it that way.

"You can't!" I protest vehemently "I'm not even an actual fighter!"

"Not yet," she concedes as serenely as always, "But your triumph over one of the Night Cats shows you have potential. A potential the training of the Officers' Academy will see realized."

"I don't have 'a potential'!" I counter, my patience for her bullshit starting to wear thin. "I only took advantage of a cheap shot dat won't work again!"

"If I may intervene, Archbishop," Seteth chimes in, drawing the attention of both of us to him. Behind him, Hanneman and Dimitri are looking at each other uncomfortably. "I agree with him. Besides his obvious inexperience making him a liability on a battlefield, this arrangement would also put the Blue Lions into unnecessary danger."

"Danger will come regardless," Rhea replies, still so irritatingly serene. "Now that we know who they are, the Nightcrawlers will grow bolder. If it is not out there with the Blue Lions, it will be here with all of the students and the Church's personnel. Would you rather it came to that, Seteth?"

"Of course not," her brother rebukes, "But…"

"Then I have spoken," she cuts him off, ending the debate there and then.

"And what if I refuse?" I keep protesting.

To that, Rhea turns back to me, bends her neck backward, and gives a piercing glare that is...way too similar to the one she gives Byleth when he sides with Edelgard. And just like the one Seteth gave me not too long ago.

Is that glare a frigging family trait or something?

"You seem to have misinterpreted your situation," she says, her tone noticeably colder than before, "The Church welcomed you here when you had nowhere else to go. And you repaid that kindness with lies and deceit. That you are being made a student of the Officers' Academy is better than what you would have received under normal circumstances." She arches an eyebrow before continuing, "Unless, of course, you have more to say about the Nightcrawlers to explain why you can't face them?"

...I have no idea whether she's just asking a question or she's implying she knows I have not been completely honest with her. But either way, I get her message. 'Back off or else.'

"No," I tell her, defeat in my voice. As much as I hate this, this is the woman with the power and authority to make my life so much worse.

Her head returns to normal. "Good. Then it's decided." She briefly glances at Hanneman and Dimitri. "The two of you can leave with him."

Without missing a beat, the three of us go straight for the door and get out of the room.

* * *

"So how did it go?" Catherine greets with a smile, mimicked by Alois. Both of their expressions fall, however, when they see ours.

"What happened?" Alois asks with concern.

"In short," I groan, rubbing the back of my head, "It seems I'm officially joining de Blue Lions."

"What?" the two Knights ask in unison as their eyes widen.

After Alois and Catherine recovered from the initial surprise, Hanneman decided to let me explain the finer details to the two while he and Dimitri met with the other Lions and informed them of these developments, adding that I could join the lessons starting from tomorrow.

Dimitri was strangely quiet through it all. Quiet and not entirely present, with his gaze focused elsewhere most of the time. And I think I overheard him mutter something to himself. Knowing that during the war phase he becomes Mister 'Kill every last one of them', I really don't like what the implications could be.

In any case, the three of us then decided to retreat to the dining hall, where we would have slightly more privacy while the students are busy with the lessons. From there, I proceeded to tell them all that transpired within Rhea's chambers. Alois looks more and more baffled as I go on. Catherine just keeps furrowing her brow.

"So wait, let me get this straight," she says when I'm finished, "Hanneman found out you had a new type of Crest - a type these Nightcrawlers gave to you - and you chose to keep quiet about it from Lady Rhea?"

I nod. "You know even better dan me how big of a deal having a Crest is to begin wit. I didn't want to draw dat kind of attention."

"What sort of thinking is that?" Catherine retorts, "We all knew circumstances weren't normal when you first came here. What made you think that hiding this because it would make you stand out less was a good idea?"

I purse my lips as I lower my head. The answer to her question is simple; I didn't want to alter their coming future in _any_ way. I thought this would be like those isekai fanfics I used to read where there was not an actual reason as to why someone is taken from Earth. Even after Hanneman told me there was actually a reason, I still thought if I laid low I'd avoid messing everything up like I always do.

And now, Shamir lies in the infirmary with her legs all but lost, the Slitherers' are no longer hidden from everyone else, Rhea and Dimitri might have taken a step towards insanity sooner than they should have, and I've just made the Blue Lions targets.

It was all for nothing.

"Oi, you still there?" Catherine interjects, "Come on, don't space out! Say something!"

"...I'm sorry," is all I can say in a low voice.

Catherine seems to relax at that. "Well, that's...mmmph."

Raising my head again, I find that Alois has placed a hand on Catherine's mouth, whose eyes are now throwing an icy glare at him. One he doesn't seem to be concerned by.

"What are you apologizing for?" he asks me, a perplexed look on his face.

Isn't it obvious already, Alois? "For de burden I've been. For getting you all tangled up in dis mess. And for Shamir."

Immediately, Alois comes to my side and places a hand on my shoulder. "You have not been a burden. And you are not responsible for what has happened."

"I am," I retort, "Had you two not found me dat day, de Nightcrawlers would never have been de Church's problem." At least not before Edelgard made them.

"Doubtful," Catherine scoffs, "If they're as bad as you say, they would have become the Church's problem sooner or later now that they've come to Fódlan."

Just proving my point without realizing it, Cat.

"And remember," Alois adds, "We chose to welcome you here. And the Night Cats are clearly people that would have stopped at nothing to get at you. With others, they could have done so much worse. With us, there is a fighting chance."

At the price of dooming your future. Yours and everyone else's.

"And consider this," Catherine continues, "If Shamir were here to say her piece, what do you think she'd want you to do? Wallow in self-deprecating thoughts? Or react to what's happened?"

…

_"You can keep telling yourself the Varholm cover will work indefinitely. But mark my words: it is only a matter of time before someone figures out the truth."_

"_Now Professor Hanneman and the Blue Lions know something is up with you," she continues unperturbed, "What do you plan on doing about it?"_

_"You may as well tell the truth. It'll be less of a headache for everyone."_

_"It's time you stop being ridiculous about this," she scoffs._

Same as when it was just about me trying to pass as a native, no doubt. Stand up for myself instead of hiding. Or in this case not just standing aside and watching as everything falls in disarray.

"You're right," I sigh. "I've got to deal wit de Nightcrawlers. Whatever it takes."

A smile comes on the face of both Knights. "That's the spirit!" Catherine adds.

I pray no harm comes to the Blue Lions in the end.

Still, with this attack already altering what was supposed to be, maybe I can take this chance to set them on a different path than the one they take in Verdant Wind. One that potentially doesn't lead to their deaths.

And there is a certain someone I need to talk to to get started on that...

* * *

[Seteth]

"Rhea, I need you to know that I disagree with this course of action!"

"I know, Seteth," she replies. "But this is the only one we have."

"Is it?" I counter "Hiding Eugenio in Abyss until we could find these Night Cats would have been a safer option for everyone." Not to mention the perfect method to make sure he wouldn't divulge what he knows of me and Flayn.

Rhea shakes her head. "No. That he would leave on the same mission as the Blue Lions was a fact only those within these walls could know. If they are not safe, neither is Abyss." She looks me in the eye and for just a moment, they seem to turn slit. "And you know who these Nightcrawlers truly are. Only one group ever learned that spell they used to separate Hanneman and Shamir from the others."

She then turns her head away as her hands tighten on each other. "They survived." I hear her mutter. "They always survive, while we lose everything."

It takes her a few moments before she can continue. "What do you think Eugenio's reasons for lying even now could be? Fear of the Agarthans? A past among them? Or something more nefarious?"

That question reminds me of the information I have to tell her. I had hoped it would not be necessary considering how rash Rhea has always been, especially today. But now it's too important. I had warned Eugenio if his action would threaten the Monastery I would act accordingly. Whatever the consequences.

"I believe the reason is tied to the fact he and his country are not of this world."

She turns back to me, shock evident on her face. "How do you know this?"

I then proceed to recount to her what transpired between Eugenio and I. Of how I discovered his Crest long before today. Of how he recounted stories first shared with us by Mother. And of how he realized my true nature.

Rhea frowns more and more as I go on.

"So he assumed you're one of the Divine Tribe and threatened to reveal the existence of dragonkind," she summarizes at the end, her face now fully morphed into a scowl. "Does he know about me and Flayn?"

"He's met Flayn and knows she's my 'sister'," I answer. "As for you… I don't know. But with how much he knows about us, he will likely figure it out if he hasn't already."

Rhea silently contemplates my words before continuing, "It seems we have allowed a snake within Garreg Mach. A snake chased by other predators, but a serpent nonetheless."

"Indeed," I concede. "But this also means the Agarthans have gained the means to travel through the Outrealms. There can be no saying what horrors they've collected in their journeys."

Rhea closes her eyes and takes a deep breath after my comment. After that, her face returns to a normal expression. "Then all the more reason we have to go through this. They must be found and exterminated. Only then will we deliver the punishment Eugenio deserves."

I wince at her words. "Wait, Rhea, I don't think such drastic measures…"

"Cichol," she cuts me off. "This parasite has exploited our goodwill on more than one occasion. And the fact that he is an Outrealmer from Mother's old world alone would be a threat to all that we've built. The fact that he is not afraid to use it against us makes him far more dangerous than anything we've faced since the War of Heroes. Too dangerous to be left alive."

"I…" I sigh. As much as I detest to admit it, she has a point. "I understand. But I told you he claimed to have countermeasures in place should anything happen to him."

She merely nods. "If such countermeasures exist, we will find them. And we will eliminate them."

I nod to that. That much, at least, I can agree on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus the escalation begins, with Eugenio being thrown into the fray of things and Rhea putting him into her crosshair.
> 
> Little piece of trivia: 'Nightcrawlers' was a fan-translated name for Those Who Slither In The Dark I found on some forums when they were revealed in Japan but had yet to be given their localized name.
> 
> Thanks once more to Softandhappy and Stormtide Leviathan for betareading this. You can join us at the TreeHouse Discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> I'll see you guys in next chapter with Eugenio settling into his new position.


	21. Chapter 18-The New Blue Lion

"I beg your pardon?" Solon asks in disbelief, almost dropping the books he was carrying.

"Yeah," I reply as I glance at the library's bookshelves. "Dis is de last time I'll be seeing you as your assistant. Starting tomorrow I'll be following de Academy lessons."

"I…" he takes a pause to place the books down on his desk, "I don't know what to say. I'm...happy you received this honor. It's just that I did not see this coming at all."

You mean you're angry because this will get in the way of keeping your eyes on me, don't you, you walking fossil?

"Neider did I," I opt to say instead, "But it seems de Archbishop deemed my actions out dere worty of dis."

Of course, I'm not gonna say this is all Rhea's plan to get at the Slitherers in front of _him_. Even though I detest pretending to be okay with that hag's decision.

"But these assassins that attacked you," Solon's makes a concerned face as he continues, "Were you able to learn anything about them?"

Oho, testing the waters now, are we? Well, careful what you wish for.

"Only dat dey are scums," I reply. "And dat I hope de Church is able to deal wit dem."

Unfortunately, Solon maintains his composure and shows no reaction to my jab. Oh, well.

"I see." He sighs before giving that fake smile of his again. "Well, in any case, I look forward to seeing you here as a student. And I hope you do well out there."

Oh, I'll make it difficult for your goons to capture me, rest assured.

"Tank you." I nod to him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, dere's somewhere else I need to visit."

"By all means."

I leave the library and the mole men after that. After all that has happened, he's near the bottom of the list of people I want to see. But a sudden hostility towards him when we've kept up the appearance of a cordial rapport would have been too suspicious.

The worst part is, this isn't even going to be the hardest thing to do tonight. At least with Solon all I have to do is keep a friendly exterior. The fact he's also playing a part can also be a benefit sometimes.

No, the hardest thing is going to be apologizing to Mercedes. I have little doubt she wants nothing more to do with the ass who shoved her traumatic past in her face so callously. And considering she was just trying to help, I'd probably deserve no less.

Unfortunately, thanks to a certain green-haired snake, we're no longer just an improvised librarian and a student that only have brief interactions about where to find books. We're going to be two people that will have to watch each other's back as they face the worst assassins Fódlan has to offer. There can be no room for cold shoulders or grudges.

While those thoughts go through my head, I head to the northern area of the Monastery and into arguably its most important place and the one I've had the least reason to visit up until now: the cathedral.

I've only ever been here once before. During the opening ceremony of the new school year. A time when all my worries were avoiding the major players and not standing out. Back then I wasn't impressed by the place. It was too similar to any other church I've ever visited and I was more preoccupied with watching Rhea address the students.

But now that it's not full of people, I get the chance to better observe the interior. Specifically how large it is, what with the tree arches of this place each bigger than any on Earth. The decorations are pretty much what one would expect, though: statues, murals of what must be famous events of the War of Heroes, and candlelights to light the place.

I do not actually expect to find Mercedes at this hour. It is rather late and there will be lessons tomorrow. But I wanted to at least try. The longer I delay this, the harder it'll be. And I would rather not make a show in front of her classmates.

One place I remember she seemed to favor in the game was the altar near the end of the cathedral. I decide to start there, expecting to find only some members of the clergy and not her.

To my astonishment, I spot her rather quickly, her hatless head standing out among the others praying right now, and her hairstyle acting as a dead giveaway that it's her.

Well...here we go.

I step closer to Mercedes but stop just shortly behind her as I hear her mutter her prayers. My situation with her is already precarious enough as is, better not worsen it by interrupting the prayers that matter so much to her.

Prayers...prayers to something that not only isn't an actual god but is not even able to hear them. Just a small sphere containing what's left of a dragon's consciousness. A dragon who gained influence over all these people thanks to her crazed daughter after her body was destroyed. The sickest joke one could ever hear.

I turn to the statue of Sothis that sits atop the altar. What am I even going to do after this situation with the Slitherers? Will I be able to deal with it before the war starts? Will I have to make an enemy out of Edelgard too? Will I-?

"Ah, good evening, Mister Eugenio."

Mercedes' oddly friendly greeting takes me by surprise. Her face doesn't show any sign of wariness either, just her usual smile. No doubt just a front this time around. Because how could you be happy in front of someone who bitchslapped you with your past?

"Good evening, Miss Mercedes," I greet, trying to keep a level tone. No need to make a scene.

The blonde closes her eyes and her smile widens as if she wasn't talking to some imbecile who shit talked to her. "Here to pray as well?" she asks innocently.

And all this politeness from her only serves to make me feel more like a huge piece of shit than I did before. Possibly more than I've ever felt all my life.

Which is only all the more reason for me to apologize.

"Actually, I was looking for you," I reply. Somehow, keeping eye contact with her becomes more difficult, but I try my best to do it regardless. I can't avoid it if I want to be sincere. "I wanted to talk. In private."

Her stance immediately shifts at my request, with her eyes widening, her smile faltering and her shoulders tensing. "Talk? What about?" she asks in a voice that is…not as wary as everything else but certainly not as serene as before.

"About…" I sigh, trying to muster the words, "About what I said out dere. Before we were attacked, dat is."

With how she reacted to the proposal, I would expect her to refuse and say something along the lines of 'we have nothing to talk about' or 'I would rather not'.

"Oh," is what she replies with instead. She takes a few moments looking at me with a face now devoid of emotion and then points to her left before saying, "In that case, would over there be a good place?"

I turn in the direction she's pointing at. There is a corridor that seems to lead to an exit, although what little I can glimpse in the darkness outside are more of the Monastery's walls. Seems like a secluded enough place to have some privacy for this conversation.

"Sounds good to me," I tell her. "Lead the way."

Without any more of a prompt from me, the priestess-to-be turns in the direction of the corridor and starts walking in that direction, with me following shortly behind.

Once we're outside, Mercedes turns back to me, that same neutral look on her face."So, what would you like to talk about?"

I sigh once more. Here we go, then.

"I wanted to apologize to you," I say, crossing my arms.

Mercedes doesn't react to my words in any way. Which, I guess, must be her way to say to go on.

"What I said to you, how I used your childhood in House Bartels to denigrate you…it wasn't right. You wanted to be of help and I shut you down in the rudest of ways. It was not right of me to do dat and I'm sorry about dat. I know my words probably don't mean much, but I truly am."

Considering how hurtful what I said must have been for her, I was expecting one of a few reactions from Mercedes. Snapping at me and asking me whether I think my apologies will make things better. Staring in disbelief that I would have the gall to seek her forgiveness. Laughing to my face that I thought my apologies were worth anything.

Instead, she just remains impassive as she keeps looking at me. A pair of blue eyes with no spark of emotion whatsoever in them focused on me. Somehow, that feels even worse than anything I'd imagined.

Just…just shut me off in return and get this over with, girl.

"Why?"

I blink at hearing her question, unsure of whether I heard correctly. "Excuse me?"

"If you knew it was not right, even then, why did you do it anyway?"

There is no malice in her voice. No anger or contempt or mockery. Just genuine curiosity.

Why did I say such hurtful stuff to her? That's a question I'm not sure I can answer.

Actually, I do know the answer. I just…don't want to say it out loud.

"You asked me how staying at Garreg Mach has been for me," I tell her. "Do you remember dat?"

She nods. "Yes. You said you got used to it."

"De fact is," I sigh, "Getting used to it doesn't mean being here isn't growing more and more frustrating for me with each passing day."

Not to mention the escalation of disasters that have been happening ever since I first arrived. First, it was my situation with…'fragment' or 'traces' or whatever of Crest I got, then the students who could tell my foreign origins, then having to blackmail Seteth and now these Night Cats. Pretty sure I'm not entirely sane by this point. And that's not even the worst part.

"Tell me," I continue, "Do you have someone in your life dat you lost, not because dey died but because life separated you two and you don't have de means to see each oder again?"

"I do," she immediately responds. "My little brother Emile. We had different fathers, but we grew up in the same household. Until my mother and I had to leave. I was eight or nine."

Riiiiiight...the bundle of joy also known as the Death Knight. How could I forget about him?

Ok, no, let's try not to ruin this by being a snarky bastard again.

"Dat is de situation I'm in right now," I continue. "Every day I'm here is anoder day I'm missing from my homeland and anoder day everyone I know wonders what became of me. Every day I'm here, I miss everyone and everyting more and more." I look up to the sky. "And wit each passing day, it all feels more and more like de stars over dere. So small, so apparently easy to reach, but actually far more distant dan I could possibly imagine."

And that is without the burden of the knowledge of all that will transpire.

"And unfortunately I don't do well wit frustration. I never have. My go to metod to deal wit it has always been to keep my remarks and toughts in general to myself. Most of de time it works. But when it doesn't…" I turn back to Mercedes, who still has had no reaction. "Well, you've experienced what happens firsthand."When not even that makes her react, I sigh. "I know it's pretty patetic, but-"

"I do not think it is," she cuts me off, shaking her head. "But all that frustration, all that anger, all that pain…have you considered it may not be good to keep it all for yourself?"

"Better dan to vent it upon oders."

"Is that not what happened out there?"

…

"Listen," Mercedes continues, the tips of her mouth turning slightly upwards and some warmth returning to her voice. "I understand that you have other people's interests at heart. But…" she places a hand on my shoulder. "You are not a burden. And you don't have to be alone. I have seen you these nights with those Knights. They trust you. Would it be so wrong to trust them in return?"

I wish it weren't Mercedes. But the things that are on my mind, the knowledge I have of this world's past and future…it would only shatter them. Make them reject me.

She smiles some more before continuing "And besides, from what Hanneman has told us, you will also have us - the Blue Lions - to rely on now. Both on and off the battlefield."

"I doubt your classmates feel dat way," I retort. "Dey certainly did not seem to approve of what I said to you." Especially the ginger bean that is her BFF.

"They may take some time to warm up to you again, it's true," She admits, even though that impossibly warm smile of hers never falters. "But I'm confident that in time they will forgive you. As I have just now."

I blink in disbelief at that last statement of hers. For real? Just like that?

She removes her hand and closes her eyes as she forms a proper smile. "Is there anything more you wanted to talk about?"

"I…don't tink so." I dully reply.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow in the morning," She giggles before walking away.

…she forgave me? That can't be right. But why would she say it then? It was just the two of us without witnesses, so there wasn't anything to be gained. Maybe it was just some misguided attempt to be nice?

The more I try to think about it, the less close to what was on her mind I feel I get. _Terrific_.

Well, in any case, tomorrow my tenure as a Blue Lions begins. As will my endeavors to fit into the class. Better not staying up too late.

* * *

The following morning starts eerily normal. I wake up at the usual hour, go to the dining hall as usual, and have the usual breakfast. All stuff that I've been doing every morning for the past months. All stuff I'm used to by this point. All the usual stuff.

It is only after I've done that when my brain is defaulting to 'let's go to the library' that it all comes back to me this is where the usual ends now. My place is no longer there. It's in the Blue Lions' classroom. All in preparations of drawing out the Slitherers and facing them. Something I didn't want to, but circumstances have forced me. Circumstances, a group of exploitative bastards and a vengeful bitch.

A vengeful bitch I'll no doubt have to watch out for when the Night Cats are finished, no doubt. The game made it abundantly clear those that anger her as much as I have are as good as dead in her eyes.

That will be later, though. Let's stay focused on the here and now. Meaning, let's head to said classroom, where it will be official for the students that the asshole who snapped at one of them is now part of their class.

Goddammit.

When I do arrive there, someone is waiting outside. Probably the only friendly face I'll see today in this room.

"Good morning, Eugenio," Hanneman greets me. However, his face looks strained as he keeps his arms crossed, and his posture stiff.

"Good morning, Professor," I greet back before frowning. "Are you alright?"

"I just…" he pauses "I would like to apologize. When Lady Rhea heard of the Cats' claims about the 'fragment of Crest' she insisted to have you tested in her presence." He lowers his head. "I could not keep your situation hidden any longer."

Ah..._that_.

"Do not worry," I attempt to reassure. "I tink I have seen how…intense she can be." More like petty and blackmailing. And considering she's the one with the army of zealots, there isn't much he could have done to say no to her.

When he raises his head again, his lips are pursed. "Still, her demands to put your life on the line like this...I understand that she is angry at what was kept from her, but this is crossing a line."

You have absolutely no idea how many lines she's crossed in her life, or how many more she is perfectly capable of crossing. At least this time around I was the only one to suffer the brunt of her wrath.

Wait...was I?

"What of you instead?" I ask the mage. "De choice to hide my Crest was mine, but you helped me along. What has she done to you?"

"I…" he rubs the back of his neck nervously, "I received a warning that if I was caught hiding secrets from the Church again I would be stripped of my position as a professor of the Officers' Academy and have all my research confiscated."

Right to what matters the most, is that it? Fucking hag…

"As it is now," his expression swiftly shifts to a more stoic one, "I'm only supposed to run anything new I discover about your Crest by her so she can decide whether it is fit for you to know or not. And to let her know if I discover more about your homeland or the Nightcrawlers."

"...was I supposed to know you've been tasked to basically spy on me?" No way that albino lizard would tell him all that and expect me to be okay with it. She's petty but not stupid.

Hanneman shrugs. "Well, she didn't say you weren't. And, as she put it when I asked, I'm not 'spying' on you. I am merely doing what the Goddess expects of me."

I have a feeling I indirectly shattered any form of trust Hanneman had towards Rhea. And I'm not entirely sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, it's one less ally she has against me. On the other, distrust might lead him to join Edelgard's cause later on. And I'm not sure whether I'm okay with that.

"So what's de plan for now?" I ask him.

Hanneman clears his throat. "For now, we do as the Archbishop ordered." Yeah, I kind of figured. "But she plans to have you draw them out because we have no alternative leads. However, with what we've discovered of the Nightcrawlers' endeavors here in Fódlan in these past few months - which I deemed wiser to withhold from Lady Rhea for the time being, given her current state of mind - I am confident I can find alternative leads and that will not force your safety to be put at risk."

He wants to use what he learned of Byleth's and the brat's Crests to find other leads? Under Rhea's nose? "You're playing wit fire, Professor," I comment.

"In this particular case, I think it is the fire that is playing with us," He replies solemnly. "And we have to react accordingly to put it out."

Any further attempt at conversation is stopped by the sound of people approaching.

"Ah, it seems your classmates are here," the mage jovially comments as he glances in the direction the noise is coming from. He turns back to me, a matching small smile on his face "Are you ready to begin."

I shrug. "Ready as I can be given current circumstances."

* * *

As it can be expected, my reunion with the students is...awkward to say the least.

Mercedes is the one who has the best reaction out of her class, with her usual gentle smile in place and just generally looking fine. Don't know how much of it is her putting up a farce, but I suspect the fact she's this way today is mostly due to last night. Guess it worked for something.

Then there is Felix, who is just rolling his eyes or giving around looks that scream 'can we just get this shit over with?'. So basically his usual charming self.

The others are visibly less okay with me being here, what with the various uncomfortable glances they give me or just general indifference. The only one that doesn't conform to the majority in their way of displaying their distaste for me is Annette, who is actively glaring at me. Well, more like pouting considering it's Annette. Guess she doesn't share her BFF's feelings towards me.

"Despite circumstances being what they are, I am confident all of you will manage to bond over time." Yeah, keep dreaming, Hanneman. "Are there any questions?"

Ashe is the first who raises a hand. "How exactly is this going to work for you? I mean, are you going to attend lessons like a regular student and graduate considering your...uhm…?"

Ah. Uh...how do classes and lessons work here?

"I'm lost as you, boy," I reply while shrugging. "I don't even know what courses I'm supposed to attend."

"There are three that are mandatory for every student." Hanneman intervenes, drawing my attention. "Professor Byleth's on Combat and Strategy, Professor Jeritza's on fencing, and Professor Aeden's on Command."

So the ones taught by Three Houses' protagonist, the murderous psycho, and a random guy that teaches how to shout orders at everyone. Great…

"Students can choose what other courses to attend, but all must have completed their exams on at least six to graduate," Hanneman continues. "Now, if you're not interested in graduating given current circumstances, that's perfectly understandable. However, a degree is always useful to have, even one from a military school, and…"

"I'll keep it in mind," I cut him off before he goes on a rant. With all I have to look out for, I doubt I'll be able to properly focus on studying, but I know where he's coming from. It's the sole reason I didn't quit Chemistry despite the whole disaster it was turning out to be, after all.

Hanneman looks disappointed for a moment but then continues. "In order to prepare to fight the Nightcrawlers, my advice would be to build on what you already know. To that end, I'd advise you to attend my lessons on Reason Magic and Professor David's on fistfighting. And also Professor Byleth's, so that you can better adapt to fighting."

I nod to him. "Dat makes sense." No idea what to expect from this 'Professor David', but at least I shouldn't be starting his subject from scratch. The lovechild of a man and a Weeping Angel isn't exactly at the top of people I want to be around, but it's true I'll need his help to get through this.

After that, I turn back to the students, some of them now looking with curiosity while Annette...looks like she just shuddered. _Terrific_. "Oder questions?"

Now it's Ingrid's time to raise her hand. "The fragment of Crest that Lion mentioned you have. How does it work exactly?"

Damn… 'how does it work'. Not 'do you know what she meant' or 'was it true'. They know. Shit.

Well, I might as well get this out of the way.

"Professor," I sigh "I tink I'll need your help to demonstrate dis."

His eyes widen at that, then he jumps up from his seat and comes next to me, ready to catch me should I lose my balance.

I turn back to the students and raise a hand in front of them. When I'm sure I have the attention of everyone, I summon my Crest. Most of them gasp in surprise at the sight of the flickering thing floating over my hand, even Felix widening his eyes at the sight of it.

Of course, it isn't long before the sense of vertigo comes over me and Hanneman is forced to grab me by the shoulders and sustain me. I let the Crest fade by that point.

"It is what deir name implies," I explain to the still blinking student, all turning to me. "A version of a Crest weaker dan even de Minor ones. I didn't have it before. We don't know how much I've been affected by it. And from de sound of it, de fact it's Dominic's is purely coincidental."

I glance at Annette to see if she's having any particularly different reactions from her classmates. She doesn't, although her brow slightly furrows when she notices I'm looking at her. I'll probably have to clear the air with her at some point. But not now.

Meanwhile, the other Lions start muttering amongst themselves at what they've just been shown. The various whispers are interrupted when Dimitri makes his question. "Crests are supposed to be a gift from the Goddess. Do the stories from your world say how gaining an artificial one is possible?"

"Beats me," I lie, shaking my head. "You'll have to ask de Night Cats." I glance again at the others. "Any more questions?"

"How long," Dedue intervenes, his face stony as ever "Have the Nightcrawlers been operating?"

That is a rather peculiar question coming from him. His fellow students also look confusedly at him. Except for Dimitri, who seems outright shocked. Just what is going on with those two?

I furrow my brow as I ask, "You mean here or in general?"

"Both."

Ok, seriously, what is going on with these two?!

Well, let's see how he reacts to my answer. "Dat dey existed was known from before I was even born. As for when dey started…" I shrug. "I don't know. Nor do I know when dey came to Fódlan. It could be anyting from deir inception to just shortly before taking me here."

Dedue simply nods to that, to my discomfort. Looking at Dimitri, a forlorn look has come to his face, and he's tightened his hands into fists.

What the hell is going on?!

"Any more questions?" Hanneman asks in my place this time. No one answers him. "Very well. In that case, you may proceed to your lessons. Just remember: officially he's joined this class as a reward for helping defend you from assassins. No mention of the Nightcrawlers until the Archbishop deems we know enough about them to publicly denounce them."

Wait, when was that decided? I don't remember that being brought up before.

"Understood, Professor," the students tell him, with various degrees of conviction. It isn't long before everyone goes to their classes. Leaving me with Hanneman, completely clueless about what I should be doing now.

"So...what's next for me?" I ask the mage.

"I will provide you with a complete timetable of the lessons later today," Hanneman replies. "But for today, among the courses I told you about, only Professor Byleth's has one." Ah great. The 'chosen one' from the get-go. "I would also recommend asking for his advice on potential other courses to follow. If not for academic purposes, at least to improve your chances in the field."

...okay, that one actually makes sense. I'll need every advantage I can get against the Cats.

* * *

When it finally is time for Byleth's lesson, things immediately get awkward again. Well, maybe 'awkward' is not the right word for this specific general situation, but the students from the Golden Deer and the Black Eagles looking in surprise at me while I try to be as inconspicuous as possible does feel awkward to me.

The least awkward are probably the ones who don't keep staring at me and instead try to make small talk with the Lions, like Dorothea with Ingrid or the brat with Annette. It's obvious they're asking about me, but at least it doesn't make me feel the weird one out, even though I am.

The ones that try to steal glances every now and again, like Hilda, Lorenz, or Bernadetta are less good, but at least their attempts at subtlety are not unwelcome.

The worst are the ones who don't even try to be subtle, like Raphael, Leonie, Linhardt, or Ferdinand. Their glances that never leave me feel like the whole concept of me being here is being judged. I know that's not what's on the minds of some of them, but it only serves to remind me more of what I am. One that is not supposed to be here. An outsider. An interloper.

However, the best way I have to ignore the students' reaction is, ironically, trying to better discern that of the two that really matter to me at this point. If only to get an idea on whether they could be aware of their slithering allies being after me.

Edelgard right now is with Claude and Dimitri, and is listening to the blonde; who I have to assume is explaining my presence here. Unfortunately, all the reaction she has to whatever he is saying are a couple of nods of her head. Nothing else in her posture or expression seems to imply more than just mild curiosity and interest. But knowing who she is, that might not be the truth.

Hubert is leaving her some space with the other two lords, even though he's still close enough to her. His attention is mostly focused on his liege, but he does steal some glances towards me a couple of times with an arched eyebrow. And unlike Edelgard, I think I can see something in his eyes: contempt. Of course, that still means jackshit since that's his default expression with everyone he doesn't know that well.

All the various chatters are interrupted by the sound of greaves taking steps towards our group. The various students turn in the direction those steps are coming from and, save for some of the more laid back ones, stiffen their postures. I follow suit, turning towards the newcomer. And lo and behold, it's this world's favorite animated mannequin.

"Good morning, students," Byleth greets with his iconic monotone voice, arms crossed behind his back.

"Good morning, Professor!" the students greet back, some with normal tones, others more loudly. I'm probably the quietest of the bunch, words coming out of my mouth more out of obligation than anything else.

After that exchange, Byleth proceeds to walk back and forth in front of us, his eyes going from one student to another. And of course, they also land on me. And the blank stare he looks at me with...honestly, maybe the students' were better. At least the various emotions that could be seen in them made them feel human. Not like Byleth and his empty eyes.

"Today, I have been told someone else is joining us as your classmates," He states matter of factly and I gulp at hearing those words. "Some of you may already know him as Sir Tomas's former assistant. For those who don't…" he unfolds an arm and gestures at the space right next to him, "Mister Eugenio, would you step forward?"

Thanks a bunch for putting me in the spotlight right away, you moron.

Reluctantly, I do as he requested and move to his left. I make sure to have my back turned to the students, though. The last thing I want to see right now is how they look at me.

"I have been informed of the circumstances surrounding your enrollment to the Officers' Academy." I restrain myself from scoffing at 'enrollment' "A reward for helping the Knights defend the Blue Lions from assassins. Impressive."

His praise would feel more genuine if it didn't sound so mechanical. And knowing what he's like, I can't honestly tell whether he's impressed or is saying it out of courtesy.

"Professor Hanneman and Sir Alois also informed me of your skills." He continues. "You have had training in fistfighting and Reason Magic beforehand. But your physical capabilities are hindered by a problem with your lungs." He crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Is that correct?"

I almost groan. Do I really have to do this in front of the students?

"Yes," I simply answer, hoping that's enough to satisfy his curiosity.

It isn't.

"Can you describe in more detail what this problem is? How did you acquire it? Are there risks to worsening it? Is it contagious?"

Seriously?

"It's called asthma," I groan out. "I've had it for as long as I can remember and it merely makes me cough if I do too much exercise. It isn't dangerous for anyone but me and I don't tink dere are ways to worsen it." If anything, Fódlan's smogless air should ease it up on me a little.

A slight nod of his head is how he acknowledges everything I say, his posture remaining otherwise impassive as always. He then looks past me and addresses the students "You can start the usual exercises for now. I require a moment with him."

Guess he wants to assess what I can actually do himself. I hope it doesn't involve some crazy exercise that-

"With the exception of Lysithea. I would like to talk with her as well."

Oh, fuck no! Not the insufferable little brat! Anyone but her, please!

Behind me, I hear the students scattering around the training ground, as well as the little imp coming our way. She stops when she's right next to me, probably not even acknowledging me, and then asks Byleth, "What is it, Professor?"

Byleth turns his head to her. "I wanted to discuss what happened in Zanado. Specifically, about those archers' ambush."

I have no idea what he means by that. I don't remember a point during that map where there's an ambush of archers. But the brat's posture stiffening at the mention of it must mean she does.

"Professor, I…" she tries to protest, only to be cut off by her teacher.

"You acted rashly out there," He starts, as monotone in his criticism as ever. "You allowed those brigands to lure you into the archers' range. Had I not been able to intervene, there is little doubt they would have killed you."

Oho, so she screwed up out there? And I get the feeling Byleth had to use his time-rewinding powers to save her. Sounds like she isn't as infallible as she likes to think. Nice.

"I admit, I should have taken into account the possibility of an ambush," the gremlin half-heartedly replies before furrowing her brow, "But we had them on the run. Wasn't it right to keep them on the run? To keep them from regrouping and finish them as quickly as possible?"

Obviously not, if it means being turned into a pincushion, you dolt.

Byleth slightly shakes his head at her words. "A battlefield is not a contest of who is the strongest or who is the fastest. It is a place where you must apply your head as well as your strength. You must know not only when to charge, but also when to hold your ground. Or even fall back if need be. Adaptability and staying level-headed are always going to be your best allies. Misjudge your opponent and your situation and you will pay for it."

That would be way more impactful if it didn't come from the guy who will get chastised for running head-first into a trap in a few months.

The brat herself doesn't look particularly impressed by his speech, with her arms now crossed and an arched eyebrow.

Byleth doesn't seem to pay any particular mind as he uncrosses his arms and turns his head to me. "As for you," he says, "What spells can you do?"

"Tunder and Wind." I reply "I've tried to learn Fire too, but it seems I can't properly control dat branch of Reason Magic."

I notice at the corner of my vision the white-haired punk shaking her head in disapproval. Oh, just piss off. Not everyone can be good at anything you irritating arrogant little-

"And what in terms of Ice or Dark Magic?"

I refocus on Byleth's new question, "I haven't tried anyting wit Ice. And Dark Magic…" I hesitate a moment "Professor Hanneman believes I may have a strong affinity for it, but we have yet to test it."

Byleth slightly nods yet again. "If that is the case we can proceed." He then looks at both me and the brat. "I need the two of you to spar."

...I'm sorry, what?!

"The two of us?" the brat asks, repeatedly blinking her eyes as she does so "Why, Professor?"

Byleth responds by raising a hand and pointing at me. "I need to see for myself how you apply to a fight. And to that end, you need to fight someone who can pose a challenge and treat this with the necessary seriousness."

I...ok, I suppose that makes sense. But still why against the brat? Couldn't he do this himself?

He then points at Lysithea. "And I want you to test yourself against someone who knows how to adapt and improvise against what he's facing."

"...dat's supposed to be _me_?" I ask bewildered. Just what drugs is Byleth on right now?

He turns back to me. "Yes. The fact that you were able to best one of those assassins is proof of that."

That comment takes me aback, memories of my confrontation with that Night Cat coming back to my mind. Especially of how...

_"_Now,_" she says sounding bored, "_If you're done messing around, it's time to leave._"_

_"How about dis, instead?!" I snarl, placing a hand in front of her chest._

Of how I killed her.

"Dat…" I attempt to reply, pushing those memories aside for the moment, "Dat was luck. Dey didn't know I could use magic."

"A fact you used to your advantage. Otherwise, why didn't you start fighting with it immediately?"

I...that's not what was on...I only…

"And what of me?" the brat protests at my side, a scowl on her face. "Do I really have to be the one to do this? Our skills are not exactly at the same level. Wouldn't our time be better spent with people that are?"

I grit my teeth at the brat's insinuations. Of course, she has to rub in people's faces that she's better than anyone else. Of course, she has to imply everyone else is beneath her. Of course, she has to remind me of my failures.

"It is not about training with the people at the same level of skill. It's about training with the right people."

The imp lets out a groan. "Fine, Professor. But don't say I didn't warn you about it."

Oh, you little…

"Very well." Byleth responds before turning to me again "Do you have any other objection?"

Quite a few with his whole way of thinking. But you know what? To hell with it. The brat needs to be taken down a peg.

"No, Professor," I tell the walking doll, shaking my head. "I will try my best."

"No," he retorts. "There is not a 'try'. Do or do not."

You've got to be fucking kidding me…

"Now," he continues, taking a few steps backward and glancing back and forth between the two of us as he does so, "Take a few steps from one another. And however you choose to fight, make sure not to harm each other too severely. Understood?"

We both nod at his instructions and move away from each other. After that, I turn to the brat and look at how she's positioning herself.

Her stance is…unimpressive to say the least. Her feet are barely planted on the ground and her legs are too relaxed to pose any sort of resistance. It would take little more than a push from me to lose her footing entirely. And the way she places her hands...I know it's for spell crafting reasons, but they offer no protection to her upper body. If I'm quick about it, I'd only have to choose where to hit her, be it her head, her abdomen, or her sternum. Both of those and the fact she has the constitution of wet paper mean that if I get into range I can easily overpower her.

Of course, that doesn't matter when she can blast me from afar with her magic. Even now, I can sense the Dark Magic gathering at her fingertips. And no way my reflexes are good enough to dodge all she can throw my way.

Unless...I don't do _that_. Hmmmm.

One thing I've learned is to never look at your opponent's fists or you are already on the receiving end of their attack. The shoulders are a better thing to keep an eye on. This is not a karate match, but the logic should apply here too. That should help me predict when she's going to attack.

Still, she's not stupid. If I take too long she'll find a way to counter what I have in mind. I'll need to be swift with everything. Including my own spellcasting.

"Begin," Byleth states.

Immediately, I sense the power in the brat's hand increasing exponentially while a dark light appears in it, the dark goo of Miasma forming within that light.

At the same time, I prepare a Wind spell in my own hands. It isn't as powerful as Thunder and I may be less attuned to it, but it's still faster to conjure and less draining. Time to see if Newton's First Law applies to spells.

I release my spell at about the same time the brat does. Her Miasma goes on a trajectory that leads straight to me. I, on the other hand, aim a diagonal trajectory, launching Wind from below and sending it upwards. The brat furrows her brow, no doubt realizing there is no way it can hit her.

Too bad I'm not aiming at her.

Before Miasma can reach me, the two spells collide. My Wind dissipates upon impact. The brat's Miasma weakens in intensity but remains otherwise intact. However, the trajectory is no longer the same. It has deviated to move upwards, missing me entirely.

I can't help but grin while the brat's jaw drops. Oh, hell yeah!

Still, no time to boast. I've got to subdue her quickly or she'll make short work of me.

Readying a Wind spell in each of my hands, I rush at her. The brat tries to stop me with more Miasmas, but between me feeling when she gathers magic and a constant look at the movements of her shoulders, I manage to counter them. They become closer and closer calls the nearer I get to the imp, but still not enough to stop me. Only slow me down, at best. And watching her grit her teeth more and more is a joy for my eyes.

That is until I see a grin form on her face when I am but a couple more centimeters from her. She then charges another spell, still one of Dark Magic from what I sense, but weaker than her previous Miasmas. And then what leaves her hand is not the usual ball of goo, but a series of small black figures that looks like a...swarm of…

Fuck, this must be _the_ Swarm! What do I do?!

I release Wind again, in hopes of doing something to stop it. All it accomplishes is dissipating a few of the bug-things, but not all of them. And before I can try it again, the rest of the spell reaches me, my attempts to shoo the bug-things away useless against them.

The bug-things lightly touch my skin, making me feel a sensation that is cold and hot at the same time. Each singular one of them, however, doesn't give me any sort of pain. Neither does the combined action of multiple ones. But when they dissipate, that sensation they gave me sinks deeper into my skin, and the muscles right beneath tense as a response. That sensation spreads through all of my body. It isn't particularly painful, but moving…anything feels so much more difficult now. It lasts for a bit, but I do manage to shrug it off.

"Give up."

But not quickly enough, judging by the brat's words. And turning to her, I find one of her arms pointed at me, with a fireball held in her hand, ready to be launched at me. There is also a triumphant smile on that stupid face of hers.

A triumphant smile that only serves to anger me even further. No, I refuse to have this arrogant brat have the last laugh! I'm not letting this end like this!

"Shut." I hiss as magic gathers in my right hand. "De hell." I clench my hand into a fist as I feel the sparks of a Thunder in it. "Up!"

I aim my right hook at her now panicked face and she raises her hand with the spell in an attempt to defend herself. The moment my fist and her spell connect, the fireball suddenly turns blue, with electricity dancing all over it. The moment it blows up is the last thing I remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand that's the end of the chapter. Stay tuned to see how this will end XD
> 
> I'd originally intended to pubblish this on the 14th as a sort of anniversary celebration, but my days from here until Christmas are gonna be a tad bit busy, so have this early, fellas. And thank you to all who have followed, favorited and commented throughout this year, I really couldn't have made it this far without you :)
> 
> And thank you also to Softandhappy and Stormtide Leviathan for betareading. You can join us at the TreeHouse Discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> Now, will a new chapter be out before the end of the year? We'll see. But in case it won't, merry Christmas and a happy new year (and may 2021 be better than this one). I'll see you all next time!


	22. Chapter 19-Settling In

A hiss comes out of my mouth as a stinging sensation envelops my right hand. "Che dia-?"

When I reopen my eyes, the infirmary's ceiling greets me as I realize I'm lying on one of its beds yet again. My right arm is currently being tended to by a couple of nuns that are wrapping my hand in bandages. "What-?"

A squeal coming from the end of the bed drives my attention away from that. Looking at where that squeal came from, I find the brat lying on the bed in front of mine, with bandages on her left hand.

What the hell is going on here?

My confusion must show, as one of the nuns, a middle-aged woman, turns to me. "Please remain calm," She says. "We are trying to cover your wounds, but you need to stay still."

"Wounds?" I ask her confusedly. "What are you talking about?"

"The burns from that incident with the Blue Fire," She replies. "Do you remember that?"

Blue fire...wait, that's right. The brat's fireball turned blue. Right after I…was I trying to punch her? Or did I release a Thunder? I can't remember. Although after that, her spell exploded. And if the nun is speaking of burns…

Another hiss escapes me and I notice the nuns tightening the wraps on my hand. It's not a great consolation, but if I can still feel anything there they can't be third-degree burns. Of course, that doesn't mean I haven't lost all of my hand's uses yet.

It takes a little longer before the nuns are finished bandaging my hand up. When they are, I examine the results of the bondage. A white glove of cloth is what I'm greeted with, covering every single piece of skin, not a spot left uncovered. There are still all five of my fingers, thank God, and they are not tied together, but trying to move them in any way sends more shots of pain down my arm.

I turn to the two nuns. "How bad is it?"

"Not as bad as it could have been," the middle-aged woman replies. "Professor Byleth and Prince Dimitri carried the two of you as soon as the incident happened and we intervened in time. The burns weren't even that severe to begin with."

They sure hurt like they were, though.

"A few small scars might remain," The other one, a fairly young - possibly my age - girl, chimes in. "But between healing magic and the medication we applied, it should heal in a few days." She glances at my hand. "Just don't move it too much. Or hold your pen too tightly when you're taking notes."

I gulp as I look at it again. "I'll keep it in mind." If minor scarring and some days of pain are all I'm getting out of it, I suppose I should consider myself lucky. I doubt many survived an explosion with so little damage.

"No!" the brat cries out, drawing the attention of both me and the nuns. "No, let me go!"

The older nun sighs. "It seems our attention is needed elsewhere." She turns to the younger one and nudges in the direction of the other bed. "Let's go, Emma."

"You go ahead, Hana," Emma replies. "I'll join you shortly."

'Hana' nods to her and leaves the two of us. Emma then turns back to me. "Professor Byleth said he would come to check in on the two of you later today."

I furrow my brow. "Professor Bylet? Why?" I can take a guess about the brat, but what does he want with me?

'Emma' shakes her head. "He didn't say, but it sounded important. And he insisted the two of you wait for him here."

I have to assume he didn't want to wait for his next lesson to tell us his assessment of our 'spar'. That or it's about the 'artificial Crests' the three of us have, but I want to have some faith in Hanneman.

"Very well." I sigh. "And…" I raise my bandaged hand to the nun. "Tank you."

She smiles and lowers her head. "There is no need to thank me. I am merely doing my duty as a follower of Saint Seiros' teachings."

I almost scoff at that one. 'Saint Seiros' has already made plenty clear what she thinks of me.

'Emma' leaves me after that exchange and rejoins her sisters by the brat's side, who thrashes around all the while like a petulant kid as they try to bandage her up too. This is such an overblown display even for her that it's almost sad. Not to mention ear-grating.

When the four nuns are finished and, to my ears' gratitude, the gremlin stops screeching, they tell her the same stuff they told me, hold her in place when she insists on getting to her other lessons, give both of us a final farewell and then leave.

Right after that, however, the brat immediately turns to glare angrily at me.

"What?" I groan out as I massage the bridge of my nose. Whatever she wants to say, I can tell it's gonna be a headache.

"This is your fault!" She immediately snaps, raising her left hand. "This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't tinkered with my spell."

Yep, definitely a headache. "How exactly have I tinkered wit it?" I ask, trying to keep an even tone. Even though she probably deserves it more than Mercedes, I would rather avoid a repeat of what happened with her. "You were de one who conjured de fireball, not I."

"But you were the one who turned it into a Blue Fire." She retaliates. "If you hadn't done that...Thunder...punch...thing...I would have been able to keep it under control!"

I'm tempted to ask what she's on about with this 'blue fire' and the 'thunder punch' nonsense, but right now I don't care. "If you want someone to blame, you can look in de mirror." I retort. "I wasn't de one who tought parrying a fist with a spell was a good idea."

"What else was I supposed to do?!" She snarls.

"Duck, maybe." I shoot back. "Or try to stop me before I hit you. Not try to goddamn parry. You're a tiny kid dat weighs half as much as me, at best."

Her eyes widen as her whole body starts shaking. "'Tiny kid'?" She sneers. "Are you calling me a child again?"

Oh, that's it! It's about time I put this imp in her place!

"Enough wit dis 'I'm not a kid' nonsense!" I shout as I slam my good hand on the bed, effectively cutting her off. "I don't care dat you are smarter or a harder worker or a greater achiever dan anyone around you! You are fifteen years old! You look like one and you certainly act like one! Just because you go around shouting at everyone else 'look at me, I'm more mature dan I look' isn't going to change dat!"

The brat tightens her lips shut as her hands clench into fists.

"You want people to treat you like a mature person just because of your accomplishments and your grades?!" I shake my head. "Dat's _not_ how it works, girl! People will treat you a certain way only if you act accordingly! And what I've seen so far is not a mature young woman, but an arrogant, impatient, belittling, loud-mouted brat!"

She shuts her eyes and turns away from me.

"You tink dat your skill at studying makes you better dan de rest of us? Dat your achievements give you de right to lord over dose less accomplished? Dat succeeding where people your age would normally struggle or fail means you have de right to rub it in oders' faces? Well, guess what, none of it…"

"SHUT UP!"

I wince at the sudden shout coming from her. Right as it leaves her mouth, her eyelids shoot open to reveal reddened eyes with tears forming in the corners.

"You are right! I am fifteen years old! But do you want to know what else I am?!" I attempt a rebuke, but she beats me to the punch. "Dying! That's right, I'm dying! Everything you will see, everything you will do in your future, I will never get to experience! This isn't about proving to everyone I'm the best! It's about doing as much as possible with what time I have left!"

…

She jumps off her bed before continuing. "And wasting my time with some tactless boor isn't going to help with that!" She then storms out of the infirmary, my eyes following her trail to the door.

My gaze lingers to the other beds I can see in my field of vision, all of them empty. I then turn around and there I find the one that is not empty. The one where Shamir still lies unconscious. The first person in this world I hurt with my words. The first one to see my true colors.

Just...why? Why am I like this? Why do I always let my temper get the better of me? Why do I always talk without thinking?

"I see there has been an argument."

I almost jump out of my bed at the sudden comment. A comment delivered by an unmistakable flat voice. And turning around, I find the very same blank-faced man standing by me with his arms crossed.

"Professor Bylet?" I ask bewildered. "When did you get here?"

"I was coming to see you. When I heard shouting I decided to wait outside and listen." His arms unfold and go to his hips. "That way, I've been able to hear what was going on. Especially what you two said to each other."

The look he's giving me is his usual blank stare. And his voice remained monotonous as he said that. And yet, this time, I can't help but feel like Byleth is giving me his disapproval.

"The way you were able to stand up to Lysithea shows good strategic thinking on your part." He continues. "And what you criticized for her form was correct. But how you went about reminding her of her age should not have been so aggressive."

Yeah, I'm realizing it.

"There is something I want you to tell me. I have noticed an intensity and deep-seated fury lying within you. Not just right now, but also while you were out there. It was plain to see in your eyes as you were fighting. Where does that anger come from? Is it just something between the two of you or something else?"

...that is a good question. One I'm not sure I know the answer to myself.

My doubt must show as Byleth leans forward. "For your own sake, you must understand that. And find a way to rein that anger in. Today, the worst you suffered was a burned hand. Tomorrow, it could cost you your life. Or those of others."

…

"I would advise you to follow the course on Faith Magic." I give him a puzzled look at that statement. "Not only is it appropriate for what I've seen you can do today, but the mentality needed to learn it could help you come to terms with your emotions."

Could it? What little I gathered from Hanneman didn't make it sound like that.

"And there is one other thing." Byleth's stance shifts and I think I see his brow...slightly furrow? What…? "Do you remember the last attack you used against Lysithea?"

My mind goes back to that particular event. What happened then is little more than a blur in my memory. I do recall trying to punch her in the face, but I also recall conjuring a Thunder spell. But I can't have done both. I did either one or the other. The only thing I can think of that would involve doing both would be something like a magically charged punch. And that's…

_I clench my hand into a fist as I feel the sparks of a Thunder in it._

Holy shit.

"Did…?" I stutter, not believing what I'm asking. "Did I use some sort of electrically charged punch?"

"Yes." Byleth nods. "A technique used by the War Mages of Morfis." The who now? "Which you are not. And judging by your reaction, you didn't even know of them before I mentioned."

Am I so obvious or is he just that good?

Byleth tilts his head to the side. "Am I correct in assuming what you did was something akin to an improvisation?"

"...yes," I gulp. I had zero clues about what was going through my head at the time.

Byleth seems…as content as a blank slate can be with that answer, as he rights his head's position. "In that case, there are some things I need to collect. But when I have, I will give you some private lessons that I think you'll find most useful."

Private lessons? What about?

Instead of elaborating, Byleth says, "One last thing. Professor Hanneman would like to see you this evening." He then turns around and starts walking away.

"Wait!" I call out to him. "Is dat all you're going to tell me?"

He stops and turns back briefly to say, "I will tell you more when those lessons will begin."

He then leaves the infirmary without a word more. Leaving me more confused with no one but Shamir, and my thoughts.

* * *

"Enter," Hanneman answers to my knocking, and I oblige his command. I find him standing over some papers, with his eyes narrowed at them and a hand placed on his chin in a meditative position.

"Ah, Eugenio. Welcome," He jovially greets, although it doesn't escape me that he gathers those papers and places them in one of his drawers right away. Strange, he never minded before. Regardless, we sit at opposite ends of his desk, and then he continues, "I've heard of the...incident at the grounds today." His eyes turn to my bandaged hand. "How are you feeling?"

Wonderfully, to be honest. I burned my hand, hurt one of the students, and was reprimanded by Byleth for it, all on the first day.

"Fine, for de most part." I instead reply, flexing my fingers. "It stings when I try to move them, but I was told it should pass in a few days."

"Good, good," He responds, a relieved smile on his face. "I'm glad to hear it. Blue Fire is nothing to take lightly."

My brow furrows as this 'blue fire' is brought up again. I guess I had better ask what it is before it gets too embarrassing. "De nuns mentioned dis 'blue fire' while dey were bandaging my hand. What is it?"

Hanneman's eyes beam at my question. "Blue Fire is a particular form of Fire Magic. It consists of conjuring regular Fire spells and then pouring more magical energy into it, achieving a much more powerful version of the spell, which takes a blue coloring, hence the name. Usually, this is done through how Dark Magic is cast or, in today's case, by the amalgamation of the base Fire spell and a weaker spell from another caster. This second method is riskier and, furthermore, Blue Fire as a whole is very unstable. Usually, it should be handled only by experienced mages, otherwise," He glances at my hand. "Well, you have seen the results."

My jaw falls open as his explanation goes on. I've been seriously lucky today. This stuff sounds about as safe as nitroglycerin.

"In any case," Hanneman states when I give no further response, all while he reaches for one of his coat's pockets. He takes a sheet of paper out of it, places it on the desk, and moves it towards me. "The timetable, as I'd promised."

Oh! I had forgotten about that. "Tank you," I reply, picking it up.

"It is no trouble," Hanneman replies. "However, there is also another matter we needed to discuss. A small bureaucratic matter that needs to be addressed now that you are a student of the Officers' Academy."

I have to contain a groan at those words. Bureaucracy, joy… "What is it?" I ask as I momentarily place the timetable down again.

"The courses you intend to follow," The mage explains. "Normally students are given a few weeks to acquaint themselves with the courses taught here and to decide which of them to follow. However, because of your late enrollment, the fact you will need to be brought up to speed on most of them and the…unique circumstances surrounding you, I believe deciding as soon as possible is of the utmost importance."

And here comes one of the 'privileges' of being a newcomer: getting rushed to catch up on the others' studies. Wonder if Flayn and Cyril will have to go through this too to integrate themselves into Byleth's class. At least I won't have as big of a gap as them.

Now, let's see...how should I go about this?

"You said six courses are needed to graduate," I tell Hanneman. "Tree of which are obligatory courses for all. Is dat right?"

"Not exactly. Those courses are obligatory, but should a student not perform well in them, they need to follow another one to compensate."

I start rubbing my chin in thought after that answer. I don't particularly care about whether I graduate here, so I suppose I can just go along with what's mandatory. That's already three down. Hanneman also suggested his course and Brawling, two subjects on which I should already have some basic knowledge, thanks to my experience with Karate and Hanneman's lessons. So that's five out of six spots covered. What to do for the sixth?

"Professor Bylet recommended I study Fait Magic," I think aloud. "He said it would compliment my current skills." Plus that whole help with my anger. Assuming it will even work.

I notice Hanneman slightly wincing as I say that. "Is it a problem?" I ask. I know he and Manuela are not on the best of terms, but I would expect him to at least be professional about their jobs.

"No, not a problem. Not _per se_," He elaborates. "It's just the one teaching it, Professor Manuela Casagranda, is a rather...peculiar teacher. You may find her methods difficult to follow."

The pot calling the kettle black.

"Don't worry," I reassure him. "I can handle whatever her lessons consist of."

The mage sighs. "I hope you are right about that. Some tend to find her lectures too distracting."

If they are male students, I have a feeling their attention is distracted by something else.

"But if you are set on following her lessons nonetheless." I nod in confirmation. "Then, assuming you also intend to follow my recommendations, the courses you would follow are Combat and Strategy, Fencing, Command, Reason, Brawling, and Faith. Is that correct?"

Well, let's go over it again. As I said, I already know some of Reason and Brawling. Faith is complementary to a more magical arsenal. Combat is mandatory for both appearances and combat formation reasons. Not sure how much I'll be able to fit a sword in the mix, but if I manage to keep my nerves around the Death Knight, I can at least try.

Command, though...that one may be obligatory for the students, but following it seems like a waste of my time, considering what I'm actually here for.

"Actually," I intervene. "If it's possible, could I not follow the course on Command altogether?"

"What?" Hanneman responds, eyes widening. "Why would you want that?"

"De true reason I've joined is to prepare myself to fight. Command seems one subject dat doesn't have anyting to do wit dat." Hanneman opens his mouth. "Not directly anyway."

"Still," he retorts. "Authority and leadership are not skills that should be underestimated. The most famous battles in history were not won by the numbers of soldiers or how well trained they were, but by the people leading them."

"Dat's true," I concede. "But being a leader means having good skills interacting wit people and being able to keep at least de appearance of a cool head, right?" Hanneman hesitantly nods. "Do I look like a guy dat fits eider?"

The professor raises a finger and opens his mouth, but no words come out of it. None that contradicts my point, at least.

"I suppose that is your right to decide. Especially with such short notice." He sighs as he lowers his hand. "I can try to see if anything can be done about that. If you can give me another course you'd like to follow, that would be most helpful."

I purse my lips. What to do now? Which of the remaining courses would be most useful for me? Always because of my asthma, lances and axes are a no. Heavy armor even more so. Archery never really interested me and the way they were broken in the game doesn't really apply to a real setting, but it's something to keep in mind. And mounts…

Hmmm...I suppose having a mount would be useful even outside of combat; the closest thing to having a car again in this world. Although, considering I've already had a taste of what flying is like thanks to the Cats' monster and how it went for me…

"What about horse riding?" I ask Hanneman.

His eyes widen at my question. "Horse riding? As in the course on Equestrian Skills?" He asks bewildered and I nod. "Do you have previous experiences with it?"

"No?" I quirk an eyebrow. "Why? Is it needed to attend de course?"

"No, it's not, but…" He hesitates. "Riding a horse is not as simple as it may appear at a first glance. It is still a physical exercise. And it isn't just a matter of having a horse lead you where you wish. You must also learn how to communicate with it."

"I already knew dat much," I reassure him. "But since it's a skill dat could be useful even not for fighting, I want to at least try."

Hanneman arches an eyebrow. "You are aware the horses you will be using belong to the Church and won't be given to you at the end of the year, are you not?"

I nod. Even if Alois had not told me that, I would at least have imagined it. Breeding animals is hard work and it wouldn't make sense to just give them away like this.

Hanneman looks at me a little longer before his face shifts back to a neutral expression. "Very well. I will do what I can," He sighs. "I will let you know how it went the next time we see each other." He then points at the timetable. "Make sure you memorize when the lessons are and don't be afraid to ask for directions to the classrooms, should you need any." He then gives a small nod. "I wish you a good evening."

I nod back at him. "You as well, Professor."

As I leave his office for the umpteenth time, I hope that if my request is rejected, I will at least not suffer repercussions for it. I know Rhea needs me alive at the moment, but I doubt she's above petty revenge for harmless requests at this point.

* * *

Perhaps unsurprisingly, nothing changed for Hanneman's lessons on Reason. Same diagrams to make the magic work, same types of spells, same tendency to ramble on Hanneman's part. And the gap between me and the students doesn't seem to be that wide either. The first lesson I participated in had Hanneman explaining the El variants of the basic elemental spells, which is what should have been the next topic of our private lessons. Granted, I'm kind of skipping the study of Ice Magic, but from the sound of things, it's a necessary sacrifice to stay on par with the others.

Now Faith...that's another can of worms. Hanneman did tell me a bit of how that type of magic works and I was hoping some of what he taught me with Reason could help me with this other branch of Fódlan's magic.

Utterly, completely wrong. Not only are there diagrams, if you can even call them that, designed in a completely different way, but there are also no equations or analytical steps that I can rely on for instructions. It all has to come from 'me', whatever the hell that's supposed to mean.

Suffice it to say, the gap here makes itself far more evident thanks to the students listening with rapt attention while I struggle to understand what this stuff is even about. And I'm starting to wonder whether Byleth suggested I follow this course out of spite for whatever reason.

The one bright spot in this, at least, is that Manuela is a more focused instructor compared to Hanneman, surprisingly enough. Less rambling and more to the point. And she's not afraid of giving explanations that are less 'academical' than the texts. Even though some of her choices of vocabulary are…questionable for a school. But no matter how good she is at explaining Faith Magic, it doesn't matter when the subject is built on nonsense upon nonsense.

Still, my asthma will hinder my physical abilities no matter what. Magic will be my main means of survival out there. I've got to find a way to understand this shit.

I could, theoretically, try to ask for some further explanation from Manuela. After all, she's been at this job for years now and, if her being a homeroom teacher and how I've seen her teach are anything to go by, she's good at it. However, considering what one of the two main characteristics she had in the game was and that I'm closer to her age than any of the male students...yeah, no. I'm not risking getting involved in the mess that is her love life.

Well, I suppose when it comes to getting caught up on what has been treated of the subject, there is one alternative: asking one of my fellow students. Preferably one that is good at it and I don't have to worry about keeping too many secrets around. The question is, do I have the nerve to ask her?

"Uhm," I clear my throat as I approach the girl in question right as everyone leaves Manuela's class. It's a good thing she's one of the only two Blue Lions to attend this course. And it's even better that she hasn't caught up with the other yet. "Excuse me, Mercedes?"

It seems I do.

"Yes?" She asks as she turns to me, a curious look in her eyes. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I…" I let out a sigh. This is more difficult than I thought. "I'm…not sure I've fully understood today's lesson." I rub the back of my neck nervously. "If it's alright with you, could you explain it to me again when you have de time?"

Mercedes blinks in surprise at my request. "Me?" She then slightly tilts her head. "Why not Professor Manuela? If this is about catching up on the subject, I'm sure she would be more than willing to help out."

Yeah, help out, flirt, make a move and then whine and get drunk when I tell her no. Thanks, but no thanks.

"It isn't just catching up dat I need help wit," I tell her instead. "It's dis subject entirely dat I'm not understanding. I was hoping to talk about it wit someone dat is not dat much farder in studying it could help me understand at least de basics."

Mercedes responds to that by furrowing her brow and placing a hand on her chin in a meditative pose. After just a few moments of that, however, she returns to a relaxed stance, closes her eyes, and smiles at me.

"I would be happy to," She giggles. That's a relief, at least. "In fact, you could join me and Annie during our afternoon studies. We go over both Reason and Faith together."

Her and…? Ok no, code red, abort mission!

"I…don't tink dat's a good idea." I hesitantly reply.

Mercedes arches an eyebrow. "Why not?"

I start rubbing my hands nervously. "Your friend doesn't really like me." And for good reasons, I might add. "I fear my presence would only make everyting awkward."

Mercedes nods at that. "At first, perhaps. But does that mean it can not change?"

It can't. Annette is not willing to let this go. And I deserve no less.

"Hey, Mercie!"

The ginger bean in question rushes to her friend's side before I can voice that. "Come on, we'll be late for…" She cuts herself off when she notices who is talking with her friend. She briefly looks back and forth between the two of us. And then she narrows her eyes at me.

Thanks for proving my point, ginger bean.

Mercedes either doesn't notice or pretends not to, as she turns to her besty and gives her a warm smile. "Oh, Annie. I'm glad you're here. I was just telling Eugenio he could join during our study sessions."

Mercedes!

Annette all but gasps as she turns to her, her eyes widening more than I thought possible for someone as small as her. "Join us? Why?"

"Well," the older girl giggles. "I've noticed he's following lessons for both Reason and Faith, just like us. So I thought as the three magicians of our House we would work best together. The Blue Lions need to stick together after all, don't they?"

Mercedes is either more oblivious than I thought her to be or just craftier.

Annette eyes me warily for a moment, before turning back to Mercedes worriedly. "Are you sure about this?"

"Of course," Mercedes responds without missing a beat. She does, however, turn back to me, Annette following suit with what I assume is supposed to be a dirty look. "If you both agree?"

Well...I do need help with Faith Magic. And Annette _is_ near the top of the list of people I'll be working with the most as a mage. I suppose we had both better try to get along. And hope Mercedes is enough to smooth things over.

"I do." I sigh but nod to Mercedes nonetheless, then turn to Annette. "Dat is if she agrees too."

Annette purses her lips and looks back and forth between me and her friend, a look of apprehension in her eyes as she does so. "Fine," she huffs out after a brief pause.

This just got a whole lot messier, hasn't it?

* * *

Due to my choice of courses, it was inevitable I'd work with Byleth before whatever he needed to 'collect' would arrive. I thought I'd be able to handle his unnatural stoicism. At the very least, that isn't what weirds me out. Not today, at any rate.

"I'm sorry, Professor," I say, blinking in confusion. "You want me and him." I point at Felix, who is standing right next to me in front of Byleth. "To act as sparring partners?" The mannequin nods. "Why?"

"I could ask the same thing," Felix huffs. "If I must have a 'sparring partner', I would prefer someone who knows his way around a sword, not some clueless amateur."

Wow, thanks a lot, jackass.

"Whatever your preferences, you two are exactly what the other needs," Byleth replies monotonously. "Not only do you both follow Fencing and Brawling, but you are also both Blue Lions students. Hence, you need to learn to work together for what's to come." He turns to Felix. "You need to temper your spirit with someone with less experience than you." The blue-haired edgelord scoffs but Byleth ignores him as he turns to me. "And you need to control your temper with one that will test it."

Not letting up on that front, are you?

Felix snorts. "It's the others that test _my_ patience."

Or maybe it's a mutual thing, Edgy.

Byleth turns back to him. "Maybe. But that doesn't change my decision." He gestures at the weapons rack. "Now, pick your weapon and begin."

He turns around after that last comment and walks off toward two sparring Caspar and Raphael.

"What a waste of my time," I hear Felix grumble behind me. Charming as always.

"Personally," I reply, turning to him. "I want to believe he knows what he's doing." Unless he's somehow seen the future and is taking steps to sabotage those that won't be his students. "Let's at least _try_ to get along, alright?"

Felix scoffs. "Whatever."

God, live tsunderes _are_ annoying.

Without another word, we go to the weapons racket Byleth showed us. Felix picks up, surprise surprise, a wooden sword. I, on the other hand, pick a pair of training gauntlets and put them on.

I suppose I should be thankful I had at least one lesson of Brawling to learn how to wear them before today. Having to listen to this edgelord complain about how long it's taking me to figure out how to wear them or something along those lines would have made him even more irritating.

"Not even using a proper weapon?" He scoffs, shaking his head. "Pathetic."

I spoke too soon, didn't I?

"If you tink fistfighting is patetic," I retort. "Why are you even following dat course? Dere are half a dozen oder tings you could be following."

"It's not fistfighting that's pathetic." He replies. "Making it your primary weapon of choice is. Gauntlets can't parry as well as a blade. And your fists are much more fragile than any weapon you could carry."

That's...actually pretty insightful of him.

"However," He continues. "Unlike fists, weapons can be taken out of your hands. That is when you need to rely on fistfighting."

Huh, that makes for a good point. If not for one tiny detail.

"Technically, one can lose deir fists too in battle."

The blue head frowns. "Idiots can get their hands chopped off even when holding weapons."

Heh, feel the burn I guess, Star Wars characters.

"Well, don't tink I intend to make it my primary weapon of choice," I tell the grouchy swordsman as I raise an open hand, showing him a couple of electrical sparks. "Magic is what I want to rely on to fight. I intend to keep what I know of hand-to-hand combat in case someone gets too close for comfort."

"Did you not hear a word of what I just said?" Felix snorts.

Pretty sure you are the one setting the record for not listening to people, boy.

"Trust me, I knew mere fists weren't a good long-term option before you even told me," I reply. And it's true. One thing I learned practicing Karate was that unlike in the movies, hands against blades only worked by aiming at the opponent's grip. Which isn't always an option.

"I'm following Fencing lessons for a reason." Well, one of the two reasons. The other is trying to keep up appearances since it's mandatory for all. This is also the reason I'm not trying my luck with a course not taught by a serial killer, even though I'd really want to. "But right now, I'm more accustomed to fists rader dan swords."

Felix looks unimpressed as he arches an eyebrow.

"Weren't you complaining about having to face someone inexperienced just a moment ago?" I question him.

"If what I saw with the Night Cats is anything to go by, you aren't any good at either."

Oh, you cocky punk…

"I don't recall you faring any better dan I did," I shoot back. "And yours was fighting you and Dedue at de same time."

"At least ours had to stay focused. Yours was obviously toying with you."

…

_"_Come on,_" she challenges. "_Show me what you've got._"_

_What?_

_"_Come on, I don't want to pass the chance for a good scrap. Make my day, old-timer!_"_

I clench my fists. He's right. I'm so far behind everyone here that the Slitherer could afford to play with me, while the others at least managed to at least try to keep those other two on their toes.

Well, that changes now.

"In dat case," I raise my fists and spread my legs, planting them to the ground. "Let's get to it. Training is meant for improving, isn't it?"

Felix doesn't make any more comments. No snarky remarks or disapproving sound. He just narrows his eyes and raises his training sword in a guard stance.

For the first moments afterward, nothing happens between the two of us. We just stand across one another in our chosen stances, looking over one another. I'm waiting for him to make the first move so that I can act accordingly. And he seems intent on doing the same.

At least, until he runs out of patience. "Come on, don't make me wait! Make your damned move!"

Eager, are we?

"You first," I retort.

Felix briefly quirks an eyebrow at that. Then he tightens the grip on his sword. "Your funeral."

He then charges at me, sword raised over his shoulder, ready to strike at me. I knew he'd be fast, but he's approaching even faster than I'd expected. But at least he's leaving his abdomen unguarded, just as I'd hoped. That means I only need to change the spell I wanted to use.

Only when he's but a few centimeters away from me and his sword is about to strike me do I release Wind right to his gut. The spell's impact is enough to send him flying back and land on his back. He's managed to somehow hang on to his sword, but that won't help him. Not if I manage to prevent him from getting back on his feet.

I summon an Elthunder, the two spheres of electricity dancing over my hands and ready to be unleashed. I wait until Felix raises his head and sees my conjured spell to do that. I aim one slightly more to the right of where he is, not enough to make it an obvious miss but enough to force him to roll in the opposite direction. Right where I aimed the other one.

The bluehead winces in pain as the electricity hits him, his teeth gritted tightly to prevent any sound from leaving his mouth and his eyes shut closed.

"Had enough?" I ask when the spell dissipates.

Felix answers by planting his sword into the ground. "Not...yet." He wheezes as he tries to help himself back up.

"You sure?" I query "You don't look like you can take much more."

As he stands on his shaky legs again, he points his weapon at me again. "Shut up."

Alright, you asked for it.

Felix charges again, still fast but not as much as before, with his sword kept closer to his chest this time. Opting not to take chances, I decide to prepare an Elwind. It's slower to conjure and I haven't perfected it yet but it also has more of an area of effect and is more powerful.

Unfortunately, it turns out I'm bad at calculating risks, as by the time I have the spell ready, Felix manages to get a hit on my hands, breaking my concentration and dissipating it all together as I hiss in pain.

Before I can react any further, I find the tip of the training weapon pointed diagonally at my throat, with its wielder glowering at me. "Had enough?" He hisses.

Damn, what now? He'll notice if I try to conjure a spell, so that's a no. His legs are still shaking, but trying to hit one is too risky right now. Maybe a quick chop somewhere to distract him?

Wait… he's pointing the blade _diagonally_. Meaning he's not keeping me at arm's length. And that his hands are closer to me than the rest of his body.

Ohohoh, bad mistake, boy.

Acting swiftly, I grab his wrists, turn around and pull his arms over my shoulder. I then press his elbows on it, forcing him to lose the grip on the sword, which falls uselessly at my feet.

Before the boy can react, I take a step to the side and pull him further, with the result being the whole motion tossing him aside and at a distance from me.

I take the moment of respite to briefly catch my breath as I can start to feel my asthma kicking into my lungs. On the other hand, Felix, despite the beating he's been taking so far, doesn't seem tired at all. In fact, his glare and the fact he's managing to get up yet again suggest he's only getting angrier.

Let's hope him being angry means he'll make rash decisions I can exploit.

All but snarling now, Felix rushes at me yet again. I place an open hand in front of me in an attempt to distract him from the one behind my back as it starts charging a Thunder. A Thunder I release a moment before Felix can reach me, the electricity going through his body forcing him on his knees as he lets out hisses of pain.

Before he can recover from that, I pick up the sword he was using just a few moments ago. And this time, he's the one with the tip pointed at his throat. "Yield."

Felix glances, hints of confusion in his eyes, at the weapon turned against him, then at me, then at the wooden blade again. He furrows his brow before letting out an exasperated sigh. "Fine."

I take the blade away from his throat and then offer him a hand. He ignores it and slowly stands up. As he turns to glare at me again, I half-expect him to give some snarky remark on how I got lucky or just give me the silent treatment.

"Not bad," he instead says. "It seems I may have underestimated you."

...what? "Sorry, could you repeat dat?"

"Don't push it," he warns. Now, that's the Felix I remember.

"Alright," I concede. I know better than to taunt an angry bear.

He nods. "Good."

After that little exchange, I glance around. Some of the other students are still practicing, but a few that have finished have put their weapons back to the rackets and rejoined Byleth's side, watching as the others keep training. Which, I suppose, is what we're supposed to do now.

I turn towards the racket and make to go to them, intent on placing the sword and gauntlets back to their place.

"Wait," Felix calls back to me.

"Yes?" I ask as I turn.

He shifts uncomfortably on his feet as he utters his next words. "I want to spar with you again. During Fencing and Brawling lessons too."

My eyes widen as that request takes me aback. "Why?"

Felix takes a few moments to answer. "You hunger for victory, pure and simple.

I saw it in your eyes as we fought."

...what?

"Victory is what matters, not the method of achieving it." The blue head continues unperturbed. "I detected that in your style. It was plain to see."

"...I'm afraid I am not what you tink I am," is all I can tell him. "I don't fight for sport. I fight only because de Archbishop forced me here. And I want to survive de Night Cats."

He nods "Precisely. Survival, in your case, _is_ victory." He crosses his arms, "And someone who fights with that hunger would be someone I can see myself crossing blades again."

...in all honesty, why not? He may be an insufferable bull that doesn't see past fighting, but at least he's one of the few of the Lions without some misplaced higher believes in honor and chivalry. And today, I've proven I can take him. "I tink you've got yourself a deal."

"Good." He furrows his brow. "Just don't read too much into this."

I let out a small dry chuckle. "Boy, I was about to tell you de same ting."

* * *

True to his word, Hanneman did tell me what the response to my request ended up being. Apparently, the guy in charge of the Command seminar wasn't thrilled with it, but Seteth overruled him and consented to it, on the condition I don't skip a single lesson of all the others. Guess I had better not get sick during my stay here. But either way, this means I can at least skip it and attend Equestrian Skills without any worry.

The lessons for this seminar take place at the stables, unsurprisingly enough. While my classmates head for the various horses, I go to introduce myself to the seminar's professor. The only thing I could find out about the guy beforehand is that he's a former Knight of the Kingdom. And now that I've met him, he's a look-alike of Finn from the Jugdral games.

"Ah, greetings!" The guy loudly greets me as he stands with his hands on his hips next to a mare. "You must be the new Blue Lion student I've been told about."

"Yes, dat's me." I offer him a hand. "My name is Eugenio Beccaria, Professor. A pleasure to meet you."

He takes my hand and gives it a shake that almost tears it from my arm. "The pleasure is all mine, Mister Behkareeah." He then lets it go and places his hand on his chest. "I am Sir Gunter Frederick Jagen, son of Sir Marcus Seth Jagen and grandson of Sir Arran Oifey Jagen. And this," He pats the side of the mare, "Is my noble steed Titania."

I can't even make a joke here, this guy already is one.

"Anyway," He continues, "Is this the first time you've dealt with horses?" I nod and he starts stroking his chin. "That's a shame. It means the gap between you and your classmates is quite wide."

Ten out of ten for inspirational talk.

"How about this?" The guy continues. "One of your classmates, Miss Ingrid Galatea, is one of the best at this course. I can pair you with her and have her show you the ropes."

I have to suppress a groan. Why did it have to be the anti-Duscur racist that fangirls knighthood? Then again, if the game was any indication, the two best Blue Lions at horse riding were her and Sylvain. And between an idealistic kid and a misogynist…

Yeah, maybe she's not the worst I could have ended up with.

"Sounds good to me, Professor." I purposefully avoid calling him by name. No way I can say it out loud with a straight face.

His hands clap together. "Excellent." He then nudges for me to follow him and I oblige him.

When he takes me to Ingrid, she's tending to a horse. The walking joke then tells her what he's tasking her with and she reacts...honestly, she seems fairly neutral to it. Same as while she gives me instructions on how to approach horses and the things one needs to do to take care of them. Guess her more xenophobic side only shows if you're dark-skinned. And maybe tall, depending on whether Dedue's height is the rule or the exception.

In any case, I listen to what she tells me to do, try to do my best following her instructions and everything goes smoothly. At least, until the lesson is over and Ingrid and I are on our way away from the stables. This is when she says. "If I may ask, what made you decide to follow this course?"

"Why?" I ask her, genuinely curious. "Is dere someting wrong wit it?"

"Not at all," she replies. "I just...well, given your circumstances I wasn't expecting you to follow something so different from magic."

Huh...guess that's fair. At least compared to some other more racist stuff she could have said.

When I don't answer her right away, she shakes her head as an apologetic look comes to her face. "I'm sorry. That was probably a stupid thing to assume."

"It is alright," I reassure her. "And you're not entirely wrong. While de majority of de courses I'm following is for purely combat training reasons, dis one is more of a long-term investment."

"Oh? How so?"

"Being able to ride horses has its uses even for just transport. And I doubt I'll ever get anoder chance to learn it for free."

Ingrid at first frowns at my comment, but then she shifts to a more understanding look. "I suppose that makes sense. Not everyone can afford a proper tutoring for it."

So glad she understands.

"And what of you?" I ask. "I had heard you were already studying Flight Skills." More like I remember her class as an enemy unit being Pegasus Knight instead of Paladin. "Why are you following bot dis and dat?"

A nervous chuckle comes from her as she rubs the back of her neck. "This may sound silly to you, but I did it because it could help achieve my dream of becoming a knight."

She is right, that _is_ silly. Nevertheless, I opt to just arch an eyebrow. "Oh? A Knight?"

"Being a knight has always been my dream," Ingrid says enthusiastically. "Embodying Faerghus' values, being a paladin and defender of my homeland, of my people...it's something I believe all wish."

I try to suppress a snort at the girl's naivety. But judging by the offended look she gives me, I guess it didn't work. "What's that supposed to mean?" She asks.

At first, I'm tempted to just tell what I find wrong with Faerghus' Knights, of how hypocritical they are after what they did to Duscur, of how honor and chivalry are just ways to get killed by those who don't care for them and of how easily they are tossed aside when the going gets tough. It would be much easier.

But then, my mind goes back to the br...to Lysithea. And to how we parted terms the last time I saw her. Of just how I got angry and let my words hurt her. All because it was easier.

I cross my arms and look Ingrid in the eyes. "Tell me, girl. You say you want to be a chivalrous knight of your country. But do you know what dat actually means?"

"Of course I do," Ingrid replies right away. "It means serving loyally my lord, my king, and my people."

"Indeed," I nod. "Dat's what it means. In teory."

Her brow furrows. "What do you mean?"

"Being a knight de way you're supposed to works when your lord's, de king's and de people's interests align. But when dey don't? When your lord or de king have goals dat work in opposition to de people or of each oder...what den?"

Ingrid's eyes widen at my question as her whole stance tenses, with her shoulders stiffening and her posture from head to toes becoming rigid.

"Are dere guidelines on what you should do in dat case? Loopholes you can exploit according to what you tink is de best course of action? Or," I arch an eyebrow "Are you left wit just breaking some of your oats and adhering to oders?"

The blonde gulps before she can reply. "I don't think that's something that anyone needs to worry about. The chance of something like that happening is unlikely."

I shake my head. "Dat is not an answer to my question. And even if it were, dat statement is false."

She narrows her eyes at me. "What do you mean?"

"De Tragedy of Duscur," I reply, which gets a wince out of her. "Among dose responsible dere were also nobles of your country, weren't dere?"

Ingrid's lips tentatively open but, before they can utter any word, they reclose almost immediately.

"Tink about it," I continue, unperturbed. "Dose lords' interests did come into conflict with de royal family's. Don't you tink de position deir knights were in was any different from what I told you? Dat dey had to choose between deir lords and de king?"

Ingrid lowers her head, avoiding eye contact with me entirely.

My first instinct is to say more while she isn't rebuking my statements. I decide to ignore that instinct. It's the way of life - and the dream - of a girl with ambitions and a life ahead of her that I'm calling into question. This could escalate way too easily into a shouting match.

"Why are you telling me this?" Ingrid asks in a tone barely above a whisper, her head still lowered.

Her question only serves to confuse me. "Why am I telling you what?"

"All this." She raises her head, her eyes set into a scowl. "All this ridiculing knighthood. Why?"

Well, she's not shouting at me yet. Guess that's something.

I do my best to keep an even tone. "It is not ridiculing. It is an observation. And - if I may add my opinion - a prison." Her eyes narrow further. I try to ignore that. "You are a hard worker. You have a good head on your shoulders and a strong sense of justice." Even though right now it's twisted by racial prejudices. "Dat is all you need to do de tings you accredit to knights. A title only serves to put obligations on you, and dus limits to what you can do."

"So Knights are just pretenders who do what they do for recognition?" Ingrid hisses. "Is that what you are saying?"

I'm sure some do, but that isn't a point that will work in my favor with her.

"No," I tell her. "But one ting I would like you to take from me is dis: knights are not infallible models. Dey are people." With all the good and especially bad that comes with it.

Ingrid glares at me, but makes no retort. She keeps glaring for a while, but I opt to keep any snarky remark that pops in my head to myself. If she's not saying anything, something must have stuck with her. If I ruin it now, it will be for nothing.

In the end, she just turns away from me and storms away, sparring not even the slightest of glances at me. We're no closer to getting along, but at least we didn't tear into each other. And I didn't end up saying things I will regret.

...when has my life become so pathetic that I can consider doing common decencies an improvement?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there we go, with Eugenio starting to bond with the students.
> 
> Now, for some it's already the new year. For others, it isn't yet. But either way, happy 2021! May it be a more fulfilling year than the one we're leaving behind!
> 
> As always, thank you also to Softandhappy and Stormtide Leviathan for betareading. You can join us at the TreeHouse Discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> I'll see you guys next time!


	23. Chapter 20-Truth

"Wait, wait, wait," I say as I point at the two symbols on Annette's papers. "What are dese?"

Annette leans her neck forward as she looks at them as well. "Oh, these?" she asks. "These are the glyphs of Cutting Gale and Arcwind respectively."

Ah, that explains why I didn't recognize them. I haven't gotten to those two spells yet. Although…

"Are you sure you noted bot of dem down correctly?" I tap on the one for Cutting Gale. "You see dis U-shaped line? I remember it being for hitting larger areas. Which shouldn't be de case for Cutting Gale."

Annette narrows her eyes at what I pointed to her. Then she widens them. Then she hastily grabs her tome on Wind Magic and scrolls through it until she finds the pages she was after.

"Oh no!" she gasps. "You're right, I mixed them up! Oh, I'm so stupid!"

"Easy now, kid," I cut her off as I hand her ink and some more sheets over. "We found out before it became a problem. Let's just take a step back, note dem down again, and start over, alright?"

She looks dazed for a moment before she recovers. "Oh, uh...sure."

At the corner of the table we're sitting on, I overhear Mercedes having a quiet giggle.

"What?" I ask her.

"Nothing, nothing," she whistles.

Alright, if you say so anime mom…

Our study session in the library proceeds normally after that. I help Annette reorganize her notes on Wind Magic, we go over the latest topics Hanneman and Manuela have talked about during their lessons and we talk about what other exams we'll try to take. Perhaps not too surprisingly, Mercedes wants to take the Priest exam and Annette is adamant about taking the Mage one.

The weird part, though, is that another one they both want to give is the Fighter one as well.

"Why?" I ask the two of them. "No offense, but you don't look like de types to go mow down folks with axes or beat dem into pulps."

Mercedes giggles to that. "That's true. But in order to advance with the course on archery, that is one I must give."

Ah, right. Fighter was the class proficient in axes, gauntlets and _bows_. And Mercedes' hidden talent in the game was bows. And unlike in the game, what corresponds to the beginner classes of the game _is_ mandatory to take the intermediate and advanced ones. So if Mercedes wants to become an Archer, she must first pass as a Fighter.

Annette, though…

"Point taken," I concede to Mercedes before turning to the ginger girl. "And you? Same as her?" I don't remember bows being one of her strengths, but the other two options are unlikely for a bean like her.

"No, actually," she replies, to my disbelief. "The professors suggested everyone with magical skills to take up a melee weapon to compliment their skills. Since all those of my House receive some training in axes, I decided to go with that."

I wince. "_Axes_?"

She nods. "Yes. Have you heard of our Hero Relic?"

"Crusher," I answer. "A giant _hammer_." That looks like you need to be a bodybuilder to even lift, but apparently she could lift it with no trouble, so I keep quiet about that.

"Precisely," Annette innocently replies, apparently oblivious to my point.

"But isn't de line of tought behind using axes, like, relying on pure physical strengt?"

"Don't worry." She flexes her arms. "I may not look it, but I'm plenty strong."

I have a hard time believing it with how noodly her arms are.

"May I interrupt you for a moment?"

The apparently gentle question makes my blood run cold as soon as I hear it. Slowly, I turn in the direction of the one who asked it. Mercedes and Annette, unaware of the man's true nature, do the same more nonchalantly.

"Yes, Tomas?" I ask the mole man with the most cordial tone I can muster. "What is it?"

We have not interacted that much after I joined the Blue Lions, aside from occasional study-related matters. He hasn't made any particular effort to seek me out or even just be in my presence. That I could notice, at least. What does he want now?

"One of the nurses has brought a message from the infirmary," he answers, a grave note entering his voice. "Dame Shamir has awakened. And she wants to speak with you. In private."

I blink in shock at those news. "When?"

"The nurse said 'as soon as possible'."

Knowing Shamir and on how our last talk went, I suspect she actually said 'now'.

"I see." I turn back to the table and start gathering my stuff. "Excuse me, girls, but it seems I must leave you for today.

"We understand," Mercedes replies, an apprehensive look on both her and Annette's face. "Tell Dame Shamir our prayers go to her."

"Tank you." Since she's not a believer, I suspect she'll just scoff at that, but I at least appreciate the thought. "I'll see you tomorrow."

When I have everything packed up, I sprint out of the library and head straight for the infirmary.

* * *

"You're here, good," a distressed-looking Manuela greets me when I arrive. That's not a good sign, unless someone came in that was worse off than Shamir.

"I came as soon as I was able, Professor," I tell her. "How is she?"

The physician doesn't reply and just turns around, eyes locked on something. And as I follow her gaze, I see the something is actually a someone. Or rather, it's Shamir. Aside from a few lingering bruises, her face has returned mostly to a normal colour. That is the one good news. She is sitting upright, with the pillow acting as support for her back, hands folded on her chest and eyes fixated on the tip of her boots. The expression on her face is a neutral one. There is no out of control breathing, no sign of any emotion in her eyes and no movement of her mouth one way or another. Whatever is going on in her head right now, I can not tell.

"Does she…?"

Manuela nods before I can finish my question. "She realized she could not feel her legs as soon as she woke up. As we tried to calm her down, she asked what those assassins did to her back." She lowers her head, eyes closed apologetically. "She has been like that ever since asking for you."

I can imagine. No matter how one tries to spin it, she lost her ability to walk because of me.

"Do you know what she wants to talk about?"

I have a few theories. Maybe she needs someone to lash out against. It doesn't seem like her, but I've never seen her in conditions this bad before. Maybe she wants to state where we stand after all that happened out there. I can understand the need for privacy in that case, but not why she'd be in such a hurry for it.

Or maybe, and this is the worst and most likely case, she has questions about the Night Cats. Questions she demands answers for. Answers I can not give her. Only the stuff I told Rhea.

"I suppose I am about to find out."

Manuela nods to that answer and accompanies me to Shamir's bedside. The archer, at first, doesn't seem to react to our presence. But when Manuela calls out to her, her brow furrows and she turns to scowl first at me and then at Manuela.

"I said 'in private'."

"But-"

She narrows her eyes at the former songstress, who relents right away and walks away. I watch as she talks to the few nuns that are present and leaves the infirmary altogether with them. Leaving me and Shamir as the only people present in it.

I turn back to Shamir, who is still scowling. "So, uh…" I rub the back of my head. "How are you doing?"

Very smart question to start with, idiot.

If Shamir shares that sentiment, she doesn't voice it. Instead, she turns back to staring at her boots.

"Have you ever heard about Sétanta?" she asks in a low voice.

Uh…"I can't say dat I have."

She takes a few moments before continuing. "It's where I was born. A small town in Central Dagda."

Uh-oh. If she's giving me details about her background, this can't be good.

"Despite what they'd have you believe, Dagda and Fódlan are not so different. Both have rulers who thrive at the expense of everyone else. Both have populations that need to fight tooth and nail to have more in life than what their parents left them. Especially if said parents are an unknown father and a no one of a mother who perished soon after giving birth. If one is born to the streets, all they can truly rely on is their body and what they can do with it. And if that is taken away from them." She clenches her jaw. "They might as well be dead."

My face falls at hearing all of that. "Shamir...I'm so sorry."

"Save it," she hisses before slowly turning to me, her face hardened. "Words are little more than hot air. If you really are sorry, prove it with your actions."

I gulp. "How?"

"I want to hear the truth. And not whatever crap you told the Church. The _real_ truth."

I wince at hearing her demand. My worst fear for this has come true. And now I have to either lie more or just break whatever bond we had forever.

Although, all this stuff she's just shared…none of it came up in any of her supports. Supports that are conversations with other people in this place. Including the people she trusts the most. And this never came up with any of them. Not even with Byleth and his protagonist powers. Does she really deserve to be shut away like this?

I glance at her legs. The legs that she 'had to rely on' up to this moment. The same legs that kept her from 'as well being dead'. And then I sit on the bed next to hers, her eyes not leaving me for an instant.

"If you want de real trut," I whisper. "I must warn you. It will sound like a madman's rambling."

"I will be the judge of that."

I let out a sigh. "In dat case, how acquainted are you wit Fódlan's history?"

"I know what the Church teaches its followers." She arches an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because what dey teach, King Nemesis being a fallen hero, Saint Seiros being tasked by de Goddess to slay him, de Crests, de Elites, de Saints…" I take a deep breath. "It is all a lie."

Shamir's only reaction is a nod. "Go on."

After her prompt, I proceed to tell her the true history of this land. From Sothis' arrival to the end of the war between her children and the Agarthans. From Nemesis killing her for her bones, heart and blood to how Seiros exacted her revenge on him.

"After de war, de Saints went deir separate ways," I conclude. "Saint Indech and Macuil secluded demselves away from humanity. Cethleann fell into a deep slumber to recover from her wounds, wit her fader Cichol acting as her guardian."

Even if she isn't a native of this land, and thus less inclined to believe the history spread by the Church, I expect her not to believe me. It's such an outlandish tale, even I would not believe it if I had not played the game.

But to my surprise, what actually comes out of her mouth is "And today, the last two are known as Flayn and Seteth respectively, aren't they?"

"Y-yes," I stutter, taken aback by her question. "How-?"

"I may not have been here long," she cuts me off. "But in these five years I've heard a plethora of strange rumors surrounding Seteth. Even more when his 'sister' came to Garreg Mach. What you just told me answers some questions I got out of those rumors."

I almost don't believe my ears.

"So I take it the Night Cats are more descendants of the Agarthans and Rhea is actually Seiros?"

I hesitantly nod.

Shamir stays silent for a few moments before she continues. "That explains some things about you. But not all." She furrows her brow again. "How did you recognize them?"

"Well…" I hesitate. "Deir masks…"

"Any assassin who knows what they're doing would rely on masks or some other way to conceal their identity," she cuts me off. "The cat masks were more peculiar than most, but not unique." She now crosses her arms. "And what's more, if you know both the history taught by the Church and the actual one, your knowledge of this land must go further than just Garreg Mach's founding."

Oh, no…

"How far?"

I remain quiet at her question. Telling her what Rhea's been hiding from everyone else is one thing. It explains why I kept quiet about it, and answers who the people responsible for Shamir's back are.

But this…

"I…" I gulp. "What I know goes as far as de Crescent Moon-"

My answer is cut off when Shamir narrows her eyes.

What now? Do I tell her and get labelled as insane? Or do I stop here and just accept the consequences?

… I snapped at Mercedes when she tried to help me. She forgave me, even though I didn't deserve it.

I snapped at Lysithea when she pointed out my flaws. She will not forgive it. And I will have to carry the regret to the end of my days.

I snapped at Shamir when she told me to stand up for myself. Despite that, she lost her legs because for me.

"I knew who you, Caterine and Alois were before I ever met you."

Shamir's eyes widen and her mouth falls agape. "What?"

I take a deep breath. "Back where I come from, dere was a series of connected and unconnected stories called 'Fire Emblem'. Fódlan - de present Fódlan we are in at dis very moment - was de setting of one called 'Tree Houses'."

* * *

"Before I...killed her." I shudder as the thought of the event comes back to me. "De Night Cat I fought called me 'Outworlder'. _Dis_ is what she meant."

While Shamir was more accepting of the truth about Fódlan's past, her reaction to me being from another world altogether is more in line with what I expected. Jaw hanging open, eyes widened and a stupefied look in them that feel alien on her face.

It takes her a bit to recover. "Tell me something you couldn't know about me."

I think back to her supports and what information they revealed about her. As I think of the one with Leonie, I come up with something.

"You are scared of spiders," I say. "Or at least, used to be. You started drawing dem and used dose drawings for target practice. Bot to train your aim and overcome dat fear."

This time, only her mouth falls open. Still surprise, but not as much as before.

"All that foreknowledge…" she mutters. "All of it and you were just going to let events play out as you knew them." I nod. "Why?"

"Because I know where dis is going," I answer. "But not all of de steps to get dere. Even if I knew what exactly happens between de five years skip, I have no way of knowing how my actions could change events."

Shamir's mouth hangs open a little longer. What she says after closing it and furrowing her brow again, hits me like an ice dagger.

"There is a lot to be said about someone who is willing to let a war - and all that comes with it - occur because it's 'all part of the plan'."

I wince. "Dat is not what I-"

"I heard you," she interjects. "You used different words. But the difference is minimal. Instead of some general telling you to throw your life into the fire, it's some storyteller telling you what you should and should not do here."

That...that is not the same! I'm not following someone else's commands just because I think they know what's best!

...right?

"And you have purposefully kept secret from others all of this knowledge of the future and of their supposed fates," she continues. "From where I stand, you are no different than Rhea and the Flame Emperor."

Her words don't register right away. But when they do, it takes all of my self-control not to shout. "How can you say that?!"

Shamir appears unaffected. "Seiros lied about her family's history and fed Fódlan half-truths because she thought she knew best. Edelgard is going to keep all she knows of the Agarthans hidden and work with them because she thinks she knows best. You." She points at me. "Were going to let it all happen because you thought you knew best."

…

"I do not care who rules Fódlan," she continues at my silence. "So as a final courtesy I won't tell Rhea what you told me today. But that's it." She turns away from me. "Now, leave."

I remain on the bed for a while, just watching Shamir and hoping she will reconsider her stance. But when it becomes painfully obvious she won't, I just stand up and leave the infirmary. I barely acknowledge Manuela as I pass by her. My mind is too focused on the harsh truth that dawned on me only now when it should have months ago.

Whatever friendship I hoped to share with Shamir, I needn't have worried about losing it by refusing to admit the truth. It was already broken the moment I decided to keep secrets.

* * *

Catherine left earlier today for Gaspard territory. As it turns out, Lonato _was_ plotting something: his rebellion against the Church. Looks like the premise of the game's third chapter has begun.

I suppose I should consider this a small blessing in disguise for me. What I'm about to do would be the equivalent of forcing her to choose between the safety of a friend and her loyalty to Rhea. And I know what she chose with a friend that was dearer to her than I will ever be.

And now, as I sit on the bed in my room, I just wait for the two people I've asked to meet me here tonight. I have little doubt that I will be alone afterward, but they deserve to know.

I turn to the door as I hear knocking coming from it. "Enter," I say.

The door opens to reveal Alois and Hanneman coming through its frame. The former has a smile still plastered to his face, although it looks strained for some reason. The latter just looks puzzled.

"Good evening Eugenio!" Alois starts. "What's the occasion for this? Studying for an all-nighter?" Hanneman gives him an awkward look and his smile briefly falters. "Okay, that one _was _terrible. I swear there was a punchline somewhere along the way."

Honestly, I'm not in the right state of mind to even care either way right now.

"Shamir has awakened today," I whisper, at which both men wince. "Have you heard?"

Hanneman shakes his head. "No, I haven't."

"I have," Alois says, his smile briefly dissipating before he recomposes himself somewhat. "A shame Catherine had to leave today. She really wanted to be there when she did."

I ignore that attempt of his at a conversation. "De first ting she did after dat was call for me. She wanted to talk."

Hanneman's eyes widen. Alois just looks surprised. "Oh? What about?"

I stand up from the bed and go to lean on the wall in front of it. The two men's eyes follow me all the way there.

I gesture to the bed. "Sit. Dis will take a while."

Alois and Hanneman glance at each other confusedly, but then actually go to sit down.

"Dere are tings I've kept hidden about de Nightcrawlers. Several tings, actually" I start. Both men furrow their brows at my words, but don't interrupt me. "Starting from de fact dat is not deir real name. Some of your compatriots know dem as 'Dose Who Slider In De Dark'. But deir actual name is 'Agartans'."

How much time passes after that, I don't know. All I know is that neither of them stops me for anything as I go on with my explanation. I start with my outwardly origins and then proceed to recount all the events I know of Fódlan's history. First the ancient past, then true history of the War of Heroes, then the present that we are leaving in and finally the future that was supposed to occur, with some elements of the other routes added to give a better picture. Their shock becomes more and more evident as I go on. And by the time I'm finished, all I've kept from them is the Flame Emperor's identity.

"I…" Alois gasps. "This...I…" He hastily stands up and turns to Hanneman. "Excuse me." He then goes to the door and leaves.

Just about what I was expecting.

Hanneman, on the other hand, stays on the bed as he processes all this new information. When he's done, his face morphs to a neutral expression and turns to look at me. Just...look.

"What?" I ask.

"All of this," he says. "The Archbishop, the Agarthans, the Crests. After all this time, why?"

I sigh. "Shamir saw right trough me. I could not lie to her anymore." I shake my head. "Not after what she lost because of me."

Hanneman remains quiet at my reply. What he does next is just look at me some more.

"Why did you want to let events play out as you knew them?" he then asks.

"I'm not so arrogant as to assume I would have automatically changed tings for de better." I reply.

Hanneman arches an eyebrow. "But self-deprecating enough to assume you would change them for the worse?"

I gulp. "Dat is a can of worms I'd rader not unpack."

Hanneman purses his lips but chooses not to press on. "Very well. But now that your secret is out, what do you plan to do?"

"De Night Cats have de answers to why I'm here," I answer. "I will get dose answers. After dat." I shrug. "I'll see."

Hanneman gives me a weak nod. "I suppose that's fair. However, there is one thing I'd like to share." He crosses his arms. "If you knew me beforehand, I assume you know why I research Crests?"

I nod. "Your sister died to an abusive husband when she failed to give him Crest-bearing children. You seek to create a world where such tings will never happen again."

He nods. "Some might say I am a hypocrite to pursue such a goal. House Essar thrives from the same Crest system I seek to eliminate. And I only started pursuing it when someone close to me was hurt, while there are many out there who suffered long before that happened. That may be true, but it's no excuse not to seek to do good."

…

"Remember that on your way forward." He then stands up from the bed, goes to the door and closes it as he leaves. And I lock it and then go to sit where he was just a few moments ago.

So...aside from Catherine, now they all know. They know what it is they're dealing with and just what kind of manipulator I was to them this whole time.

…

My cheeks start feeling wet after a while of sitting in the dark staring at nothing. Trying to touch them, I find they indeed are. And following the trails of the water, it seems it's coming from my eyes.

I can try to spin however I want it. That Rhea being what she is forced me to lie. That fear of the Agarthans had me lie to protect them. But at the end of the day, this was _my_ doing. _My_ choice. If now I stand alone, it is all by _my_ doing.

Do I even have the right to cry?

* * *

[Solon]

"_And unfortunately, I have had no luck locating the Night Cats,_" Myson concludes his report. "_We have found evidence of some camps they sat up previously, but nothing else. Even the remains of Doctor Selene's creature have disappeared._"

That last part is disappointing, though not unexpected. That no trail on the renegades' whereabouts has come up yet, less so.

"That is unacceptable," I tell Myson. "Even now, the Church is looking for them. If they find them before you do, it will be a catastrophe."

"_Don't you think I know?!_" Myson snaps. "_I had all of the area around Garreg Mach searched, at a great risk of being caught, might I add. It's like they left altogether._"

I shake my head. "Nonsense. They risked too much to catch the outsider. They wouldn't let him go so easily."

He crosses his arms and starts glaring. "_Feel free to come do my job if you think you could any better. Oh wait, don't. You've already let that tramp slip away from you. You'd only get the same result with them._"

Now it is my time to glare. "Be careful who you accuse of incompetence," I hiss. "My work here concerns more of our future plans. Not just this chase."

"_Enough,_" Thales cuts us off. He then turns to Myson. "_You claim they may have left. Do you have anything to prove that theory?_"

The Sage of Espionage shakes his head. "_Only the lack of any trail. Like they decided to clean house after their fiasco._"

The Agastya purses his lips at that reply. He then says, "_Have we considered why they'd want to summon in these mountains of all places?_" Myson tenses at the question. "_What is there besides the Monastery?_"

Myson shrugs. "_Only the ruins of Zanado. But I doubt they'd dare hide there._"

"_We will see about that, as that is where I want you to investigate next._"

Myson freezes in place. "_What?! But Lord Agastya…!_"

"_I have spoken,_" Thales concludes. "_You are dismissed._"

My fellow Sage grits his teeth at that, but doesn't rebuke. After a quick bow, he cuts off his end of the communication, leaving Thales and me alone.

Trying to infiltrate Zanado is going to be a dangerous gamble, especially after it was occupied by those brigands that failed to eliminate the Kingdom and Alliance's whelps. But it's also true there isn't any other place in these mountains that could be of interest. Whatever the traitors' interest is, it must be there.

"_And you._" Thales turns to me. "_Myson was not entirely wrong about your failure to keep the outsider closed. Have you managed to still keep an eye on him?_"

With no small amount of shame, I shake my head. "He still comes some times to the library to study, but other than that keeping tabs on him without raising suspicions has proven...difficult."

The Agastya narrows his eyes. "_I see. And what is it you have been able to discover?_"

"Whatever he's shared with the Archbishop since his awakening, has been kept under wraps thus far," I answer. "To what end, I know not."

He arches an eyebrow. "_Anything else?_" I shake my head and he lets out a low growl. "_This is no good. You must find another way to keep him under watch._"

"Indeed," I reply. "I'm considering possibilities. Those he spends the most time around now are other Blue Lions students or the professors. But convincing any of them to spy on him for me will be complicated."

The dark eyes of the Agastya's surface disguise unfocus as I say that. When they turn back to me, there is a spark in them. "_Not necessarily,_" he comments. "_Not after the Death Knight's callousness has left the perfect opening for an infiltrator._"

I furrow my brow at that comment, before I realize what he's talking about. "You mean the Hybrid."

He nods and I grin spreads to my face. She will be a handful, but it will be well worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaat? Another so soon? Yeah, I'm as shocked as you.
> 
> At any rate, yeah we got to that moment. This was a part I have been wanting to write a very long time. Also, can you guys guess who the Hybrid is? ;)
> 
> A special thank you to Softandhappy for betareading it! You can join us at the TreeHouse Discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> Now, as a forewarning, next chapter probably won't come out before February. I've got some busy weeks ahead. Hope you understand.
> 
> See you next time!


	24. Interlude 4-Behind The Curtains

[Tigress, many days earlier]

"And that is as far as we know, Master," I conclude as I keep pacing back and forth in front of the Sending Stone inside the tent, Lion standing behind me while Cheetah and Panther are out hunting. "Even if the Outworlder doesn't survive his injury, it won't be long before the Archbishop realizes what truly happened. And the Shambhala Council won't be far behind them."

A sigh comes from beneath the Master's hood. "_Troubling, to say the least. That we were able to act so freely was only because Thales didn't know about us. And now, he will._" Even with the shadow cast by his hood, I can see his crimson eyes narrowing at me. "_You should have retreated the moment the first attack failed. What possessed you to persist, Atalanta?_"

I resist the urge to rub the bridge of my nose. He may believe it's safe to use our actual names, but I do not. "It was evident there was more going on with the Outworlder than we'd realized. And he proved us right."

The Master takes a moment before replying. "_So he did. The Outworlds were always said to be places full of surprises. And yet to think that one of them could possess prior knowledge of us...interesting._"

I nod. "Agreed. And with your permission, I would like to remain here in these mountains until we can ascertain if the Outworlder survived and what he-"

"_You will do no such thing,_" he cuts me off as he shakes his head. "_Staying is far too risky. Especially now that you've lost one of your Cats._"

"I told you." My teeth grit at Lion's mocking whisper behind me.

"With all due respect," I rebuke. "Lynx..._Lia_'s death is exactly why we should remain. If we deem this operation a failure, she will have died for nothing."

The Master folds his arms behind his back. "_Failures can be new opportunities if one looks in the right direction. Your group coming out of the shadows opens a couple I would not have deemed possible beforehand._"

I furrow my brow. "What opportunities?"

The Master turns to Lion. "_Doctor Selene. Can your creations behave in your absence?_"

"Oh, my dearest?" She gives an insufferably cheeky smile. "Of course they can. My, what a silly qu-"

"_That's all I needed to hear,_" the Master cuts her off. And I can't help but be somewhat pleased by Lion's pout. "_Pick two of them to send with Myron and Michail. They are going to be extracting the Western Church's little puppet._"

The Western Church's puppet? He can't be serious. "That man is watched too closely," I protest. "And even if we found a way to grab him, the Agastya would learn of it."

"_I know,_" the Master replies, "_But from what I've heard, chaos is about to envelop his land. A perfect opportunity to take him. And now that the Council knows - or is about to- of our existence, we can afford to be more daring._"

That is admittedly a good point. And Cheetah and Panther are not amateurs at slipping into hostile territory on their own.

"Very well," I concede. "And what of the other opportunity?"

"_Cardinal Aelfric._" Both Lion and I wince at his answer. "_What were the latest developments of your deal with him?_"

What does that matter? "After we attacked the cubs, I suspect he will want nothing more to do with us," I answer. "He can't denounce us without exposing himself, but he has no further obligation to feed us intel." When the Master doesn't say anything, I continue. "And personally, good riddance. When I chose to work with him, I thought what he intended was a coup, not some foolish chase of a trinket that supposedly resurrects the dead."

"_As a matter of fact, there are some truths about that 'trinket', although not the ones the Cardinal believes._"

What? What is that supposed to mean?

"_You will rendezvous with Code Name Eagle at Myrddin. She will brief you on what is going on._" He turns to Lion again. "_And you, Doctor, need to return to me. I have some news that you may find interesting for your creations._"

Lion and I look confusedly at each other. "What is it Alefric is after?" I ask the Master.

"_The Nabateans' most destructive failure._"

* * *

[Alois]

I sit in the dining hall, not even sure of what I ordered for breakfast. I thought one night to mull things over would clear my head. Unfortunately, it didn't.

The Archbishop is actually Saint Seiros, who is actually the daughter of the Goddess Sothis, who was actually a being from the stars that now resides in the Captain's son's head, the same son Lady Rhea experimented on to revive the Goddess, like she did on Lady Sitri…

This is just…insane. Worse than insane.

"Ahem." I turn in the direction of the new voice and see Professor Hanneman carrying his own tray of food. And looking incredibly composed for someone who has heard exactly the same story as me at the exact same time. And is also pointing at the seat in front of me. "May I sit, Sir Alois?"

"Of course, Professor," I tell him dully. He quietly takes his seat and places down his tray as if it were just any other day. How is he not freaking out?

"So," he calmly says as he places his elbows and wraps his hands in front of his face. "It is quite a tale we've been told last night, wouldn't you say?"

Dumbfounded, I nod. "And you are taking it quite better than I would have expected."

The professor adjusts his stance but doesn't otherwise waver. "Oh, don't misunderstand me. I may not be showing it, but the thought so much of our history is not what we thought it was is...terrifying, to say the least."

Yes, that. That's what this all is: insane _and_ terrifying.

"What do you make of it?" I ask as I rub the back of my head.

The professor crosses his arms as a resolute look comes into his eyes. "In all honesty? I believe it. Had I heard it even less than a month ago, I wouldn't have. But after all that I have witnessed for myself, I do." He arches an eyebrow. "And you?"

I purse my lips. "I want to. It does answer some questions I've had about Captain Jeralt, Lady Rhea and Seteth for years. But at the same time, the thought of the Goddess not being what we thought and all the rest…" I fail to conclude that phrase. For what feels like the first time in my life, I feel unable to put my thoughts into words. "I don't know."

Professor Hanneman remains impassive as I talk. "Is it just the news themselves? Or also _who_ told us?"

That is…true. "I'm not going to lie, after all I've told Eugenio about Captain Jeralt and how much I admire him, learning that not only he already knew, but was also willing to let him die...it hurt. A lot."

He gives me a quiet nod. "I agree. The decision to let thousands die so he could live is deplorable," he comments impassively. "But to be fair, there really wasn't much else he could have done before now."

I give him a puzzled look. How can he say that?

"Think of it this way," he continues. "The idea of someone coming from another world where we are nothing more than fiction is insane even without all the rest. The Night Cats are the only proof of that story. And without them, the only ones who would have believed him are people that would have wanted him dead for it."

"I…" I let out a sigh. "I suppose that's fair. And I can also see why he would not trust Lady Rhea with this even after what has happened. But that he would not tell _us_ the truth, after all we went through-"

"That," he interrupts. "Is where you are wrong."

"I didn't mean _now_, I…"

"I know," he insists. "Telling lies, unfortunately, is like digging a pit one falls down into. A pit that once it's dug, it's difficult to climb out of. And more often than not, those who can help climb out of it are rejected. Not because of ill-intent, but because of shame."

…

"Telling us what he did was no small feat, Sir Alois. I hope you will be able to see it in time." He glances at somewhere to the side, scowls at it and then stands up again. "Now, if you'll excuse me," he says as he picks up his tray again. "It would appear I need to prevent one of Professor Manuela's messes."

Under normal circumstances, I would be amused by the bickering of the two professors. But today, to my own astonishment, I fail to find any sort of amusement out of it. Not with what is on my mind. And as Professor Hanneman leaves me, I find myself with even more things to mull over.

* * *

[Mercedes]

Yesterday, when he went to meet with Shamir, I was expecting Eugenio would not be at his best today. Even if his head were in a better place, it is hard to see a friend being hurt so horribly, and seeing how they react to it is even worse.

So it comes to no surprise to me, when Annie and I find him sitting at a desk short before the start of Professor Hanneman's lesson, he is hunched over and with his head resting in the palm of his hand. Most of his face is covered by that hand, but I can still see his eyes. His closed eyes that have dark circles surrounding them.

Gently, I try placing a hand on his shoulder. He doesn't react. I try to lightly shake him. He still doesn't react.

"Eugenio?" Annie asks.

He jumps at that prod, reddened eyes widening and looking around agitatedly. "Oh," he says when his eyes land on us, posture relaxing almost immediately. "Sorry girls, I…" He yawns. "I had a bad night."

From the looks of it, it was more than just a bad night. But pressing him too much will do more harm than good. However…

"Would you mind if we sat behind you?" I ask him. Annie looks at me questioningly, while Eugenio curiously glances at the desk behind him. He shrugs when he realizes it's empty.

"Sure," he says before placing his head back into his hand, sparring us no more glances and we sit down.

He doesn't move afterward. He remains hunched over without giving his surroundings any kind of acknowledgement. "What do you think happened between him and Dame Shamir?" Annie whispers to me "Could they have broken up?"

"I'm not sure," I whisper back. Even though we weren't entirely certain they were a couple, they did argue a lot throughout our trip. But he could just be dealing with seeing her learning she's been paralyzed, even without anything coming between the two of them.

Before I can do anything, Annie asks him, to my dismay, "How is Dame Shamir doing?"

Eugenio lets out a groan at her question, which doesn't bode well at all.

"She gave me a spiel about how if it had happened before joining de Knights, she would have been as good as dead," he sighs. "So not really promising."

Oh, dear…

"At least we came to a mutual agreement to sever ties after dis."

Annie and I share a concerned look at that statement. The most worrying aspect of it is not the words he uttered, but how...accepting he sounds of the fact.

"Wh…?" Annie attempts to say. "Why…?"

I have a feeling I know what is going through Eugenio's head. I intervene telling him, "What happened to her is not your fault."

"It is," he sighs. "De Cats chased us because of me. Not because of her and not because of any of you. Had I not been present, de trip would have been a simple supply delivery."

I try to retort, but before I can, he continues, "But dat's beside de point." He straightens up and turns around to face us, his brow now furrowed as his eyes are filled with what seems…caution? "Do we know what de missions for dis mont is going to be?"

His question confuses me. How is it related to what we were saying?

"Huh…" Annie hesitates. "You mean for _our_ class or…?"

"_Every_ class," he precises. Why is he interested in that?

"Well…" Annie twirls her index fingers nervously. "We don't know yet, but we've heard of Lord Lonato's uprising against the Church. There are rumors that one of the classes might get involved in helping stop it."

"If that turns out to be true, I hope it's not ours," I add concernedly. "Lord Lonato is Ashe's adoptive father. I can't imagine what it'd be like for him to have to face him."

"Right," Eugenio hisses in a low voice, head lowering to look at the ground. "Ashe's fader…" He closes his eyes and tightens his jaw, one hand clenched into a fist.

Was this something else that he had on his mind? That we could potentially have to face the father figure of one of our group? It would make sense he already knew, considering he's also friends with Dame Catherine.

"Good morning, class." Professor Hanneman's salute prevents me from asking about it, as everyone in the class turns to greet him back. Including me and Annie.

But not Eugenio. He doesn't say a word and just holds his head high and gives Professor Hanneman a resolute look. One to which the professor gives a simple nod. Did something between the two of them?

As Professor Hanneman walks to his desk, Eugenio turns to Annie and tells her, "When de lesson is over, dere's someting I'd like to talk to you about. Can you remind me if I forget?"

Annie furrows her brow. "What about?"

"It's…" Eugenio hesitates. "Complicated. But I tink it'll be of interest to you."

Oh? I wonder what it could be. Does he need her help with Wind Magic? Or does he want to apologize to her as well? I hope it's the latter. I do believe it's time for both of them to move on.

The lesson proceeds normally from then on. Professor Hanneman is always a pleasant person to listen to with how much passion he puts into his lectures and how much he tries to expand on the topics he teaches. In fact, the only thing that is not the usual is the fact Eugenio every now and then requires a prod to stay awake.

When the bells ring and Professor Hanneman announces the end of the lesson, everyone gathers their tools. Most start leaving the class. Eugenio merely stands to the side of his desk and gestures for us to come in front of him. Which we comply with.

"So…" Annie starts when the three of us are left alone. "What did you want to talk about?"

Eugenio briefly purses his lips at her question. "Before I start, I need you to promise dat you won't ask questions dat start wit 'why', 'how' or someting along dose lines."

That is...an odd request. What could he have to say that requires such a promise?

"Is that all?" Annie innocently asks. "Then sure. No problem!"

Eugenio lets out a snort. "Alright, I'll cut to de chase den." He takes a deep breath before continuing. "I know de real reason you came to Garreg Mach. You are looking for your fader. Sir Gustave Dominic, former knight of de Kingdom."

I freeze at hearing those words. How could he possibly know about Sir Gustave?

"Wh-what?" Annie stutters. "H-how…?"

Eugenio stops her with a raised finger. "You promised, remember?"

"B-but...Father...I...You…"

Eugenio massages the bridge of his nose as he lets out another groan. "If you really must know, I learned a few tings about you and de oder Lions before joining de House." He turns to me. "Including your relation to House Bartels."

So he knows both about my past in that House and Annie's father through the same means? I never went out of my way to hide my past, so it was believable he could have heard it somewhere beforehand. But Sir Gustave? Who could have told him of such a private matter?

"But dat's not de point I'm trying to make." Eugenio turns back to Annie. "Dere's a Knight of Seiros here, who could be him." Both Annie's and my eyes widen at the news. "I could try to set up a meeting between de two of you-"

"Do it!" Annie exclaims. "Do it even if you're not sure! I need to know!"

Eugenio raises an open hand. "Hold up. I wasn't finished." He crosses his arms. "I _could_ try to set up a meeting between de two of you, but first I have to give you a warning. If his reasons for leaving Faerghus are what I tink dey are, de answers he will have for you will not bring you comfort. Only pain." He arches an eyebrow. "Are you _sure_ you want to deal wit _dat_?"

I turn to look at Annie, worry coursing through my whole being. This is what her ultimate goal was even back when we studied at the School of Sorcery. This is what I followed her to the Officers' Academy for. And what Eugenio just said is the concern I've had throughout it all, but never voiced in front of Annie. And now that finding out what happened to her father is within her grasp, that concern has been brought up to her.

But to my surprise and relief, the resolve in her eyes doesn't seem to waver.

"Four years," she whispers. "It has been four years since last I saw him. I never even saw him leave. I never received an explanation for why he did what he did. All I've ever known is that he just left me and Mother one day, disappearing without a word." She gives Eugenio a pleading look. "Even if all he'll give me will be more pain, I deserve to at least hear his reasons."

Eugenio's response is looking apprehensively at her. Minutes pass as he just looks at her, his stance continuously shifting on his feet, the monotony of it only broken when he briefly taps the sides of his arms or purses his lips.

"As you wish," he ultimately sighs. "I will see what I can arrange."

Before I can even register Annie's reaction, I find her wrapping herself around Eugenio's waist, our classmate looking uncomfortable as she does so. "Thank you!" she cries out. "Thank you so much!"

"Uh...sure, kid." He hesitantly pats her head. Something that gets a giggle out of me. "Can you let me go now? We've got oder lessons to attend to."

"Oh! Ehm, sure!" Annie unwraps her arms and takes a step back as she gives him a nervous smile. "Sorry."

"All fine." Eugenio shrugs. "Now, I need to talk wit a couple of people first. I'm not sure when all will be ready, but when I do, I'll let you know." He arches an eyebrow. "Deal?"

"Of course!" Annie replies.

"Good." Eugenio nods. "Den we're settled." He glances at the both of us. "See you at de next lesson, den."

After that, he walks past us, sparring a short wave of his hand, and walks out of the classroom.

As soon as he's away, Annie turns to me, excitement all too clear on her face. "Mercie isn't this great?! We may have found Father! Oh, I can't wait!"

I smile at her and nod. "Yes, Annie," I chirp. "I'm glad to hear it."

As I say that, though, I can't help but glance at the trail Eugenio left behind as several questions twirl into my head. Who told him about Sir Gustave? When did he learn of him? And why tell Annie now, right after he had a falling out with Dame Shamir?

I can't help but feel there is more going on with Eugenio than he's shared with us so far. And whatever it is, I hope he knows what he's doing. And if he doesn't, that he'll be able to let others help him.

* * *

[Shamir]

One of the first things I realized since waking up is just how reliant I was on the use of my legs. And how I had taken my mobility for granted. When Manuela told me I could no longer move them, I knew it would be bad. What I didn't know was _how_ bad.

I was expecting my limbs turning into deadweights to impede any sort of movement. I was also expecting a new way to move around would be needed. What I didn't realize was how reliant on others I would have to become.

I can't move out of this bed on my own, I have no means of moving around without a wheelchair, I can't carry a tray of food and direct said wheelchair at the same time, I need someone to help me whenever I need to use the bathroom and even getting off a chair is now difficult for me. I have always hated relying on others for doing the most mundane of things. But now, thanks to Lion, I have been left no choice.

It is not surprising that I don't receive many visits. I never sought to get close with anyone else working in this monastery. Catherine and Alois just...happened. The latter is the one that comes most often, trying to cheer me up with one of his stupid jokes. The former doesn't come at all, but apparently that's merely because she had been sent on a mission before I woke. And besides them, there's also Cyril. When he first came I'd assumed he wanted to know what would be next for his bow lessons. But when I brought it up, he was more concerned for my health. Surprising, but not unappreciated.

What neither of them realized, though, was just how degrading being looked at with such pity felt like. How humiliating. If not only I can't be self-sufficient but I also can only stir pity in this state, what am I good for?

I can't stay like this. I need to find a way to fix it. Even if the nuns say there is nothing to be done about it.

And I do know someone who might help. It's not someone the Church would approve I do these kinds of business with. And she's going to cost me a lot. Maybe even force me to act as her escort when it's done. But it's better than being reduced to a waste like this. Especially if Eugenio's premonitions of war are true.

* * *

[Aelfric]

The Myrddin Valley is a region rich in taverns. Thanks to the bridge that connects the Alliance and the Empire, it is no surprise a lot of travelers pass through here, be they merchants seeking to sell goods from one nation to the other, nobles wanting to discuss their businesses or mercenaries in search of jobs.

But in either case, a lot of gold passes through this valley. And where a lot of gold passes, so do those seeking to rob it. And thus, hideouts where they would hide.

"Whatcha want, gramps?" a big balding man with crooked teeth and a massive axe strapped to his back stops me as I stand to the entrance of the Spoiled Princess. One of the cheapest and least frequented inns of this whole valley. Notable only for being the place the Howling Wyverns - the mercenary group this man belongs to - usually 'book' for business meetings.

WIthout wincing at the withering glare the man gives me, I nudge to the door behind him. "Is Morteza in there?"

"Depends," the man snorts as he narrows his eyes. "Who's asking?"

"Mister Smith."

The man lets out one more snort, but then steps aside from the door. "Get in," he orders.

Without missing a beat, I go to the door, open it and enter. The interior of the inn is meticulously empty. The table and chairs are all set up as if it were a normal one. But the absence of both customers and employers betrays what is really up with this place, as the only other soul in here is a dark-skinned man wearing pieces of rusty armor strapped on his body, black hair tied into a short ponytail and amber eyes focused on me.

"Ah, Mister Smith," Morteza calls to me from the seat he's taken and points to the table he's sitting by, a bottle of some kind standing in front of him. "Please, do come here."

Slowly but steadily, I step towards the dark skinned man and sit right in front of him as he grins to me. I could find little information about him, outside of the fact he and his gang of axemen appeared out of nowhere last year. Some rumors said he was originally an Almyran raider who somehow remained stuck in Fódlan. Given his complexion, I suppose it's possible.

"Care for a drink?" he asks as he offers me the bottle. I politely refuse. I'd rather remain sober for this. "Your loss, pal."

I clear my throat. "If you do not mind, I would like to talk about our business."

"That already, huh?" He chuckles. "I guess the boss will like that."

...what is he talking about? Isn't he the leader of this group?

"Before you ask," I hear a feminine voice say. "Morteza oversees this group's day-to-day activities. But they answer to me."

I turn to the set of stairs leading to the upper floor and find the one who said it. A woman wearing a hooded black cloak that covers her from head to toe, some light gray markings running on the sleeves. She walks down from the stairs and comes next to me. And underneath the cloak, I think I see a sword dangling from her hip.

"Your part is finished for now Morteza," she tells her subordinate. "You can leave."

"Sure, boss," the man jovially replies as he stands up. "You just let us know if you need anything, alright?"

The mysterious woman gives him a small nod of her head before taking the seat he was originally occupying and then Morteza walks out of the inn, leaving the two of us alone.

Okay, that was… more cloak and dagger than I'd anticipated. But if this is how they want to operate, I suppose I can go along with it. And hope this isn't some sort of 'special' treatment.

"My apologies," the woman says. "Normally I try not to get too involved into my men's business. But this time, an exception was in order."

So it _is_ a special case. Let's hope it isn't because of me. "So, you are the one who will hear my offer?" I query.

"First, there is something I want you to see." The mysterious woman takes her sword from her hip and places it on the table. "The one who gave me this said there are only two blades like it in all of Fódlan. Do you recognize it?"

I narrow my eyes at the sword. The actual blade is covered by the black scabbard, but from what I can see, it's a long and curved model. The hilt has no guard, but it has room for both hands. And at the end of it, there is a...green gem.

"It can't be," I mutter.

No sooner do I say that, I hear something land right behind me. And turning around, my eyes widen at the sight of the owner of the other sword. The one who betrayed my trust. The one I could only sever ties with and hope would not come after me.

"_Cardinal Aelfric,_" Tigress says.

Wasting no time, I start gathering the magic required to cast Warp. But I soon find out it doesn't respond to my command. How…?

"Don't try it," the hooded woman warns. "I cast Silence on you the moment you entered this inn. You are not going anywhere."

Oh no…

"_Worry not,_" Tigress intervenes. "_We know you are no threat to us. But your help is still required._"

I need to be careful now. Even if I can't denounce them without revealing the part I played, they could easily silence me just to be sure. In fact, I have to assume this help they want from me is the only reason I'm still alive. Still…

"And why should I help you?" I ask Tigress as I narrow my eyes at her. "When we agreed to work together, you said you were only interested in Eugenio. And yet, one of the Knights lies paralyzed at Garreg Mach after an attack on the Blue Lions' House."

The masked woman crosses her arms. "_Miss Nevrand's fate is the result of one of my own people disobeying me._" A convenient excuse to hide the fact she broke our deal. "_But you're right, that attack was a break of trust. Unfortunately, apologies are all I can offer._" Okay, that was...more than I was expecting. Although not enough to reassure me. "_But since your help will require us to work much more closely than before, perhaps_ this _will assuage your doubts._"

What Tigress does next surprises me. Her hands go up to her face and grab her mask, which makes a hissing sound as it is removed. What I see beneath it makes me shudder.

The general shape of her face is that of a woman in her thirties. That is the only human thing about her. Her skin is a sickly shade of white, so pale she could be mistaken for a ghost. But that is nothing compared to her eyes. Her dark eyes black as the night, each with a golden circlet in their center. Golden circlets unlike the eyes of anything I've ever seen, man or beast. That such uncanny eyes can belong to one that still looks so human is...frightening, to say the least. And those same demonic eyes are staring into my own.

"What...are you?"

"I am what Seiros and her family of monsters made me." What? "I am a daughter of Agartha. I am Atalanta, leader of the Night Cats and member of The Light."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I said this probably wouldn't come out before February, but I somehow still managed to write it down so quickly.
> 
> Anyway, yeah, that was Interlude 2. We see how Alois and Shamir are doing after last chapter, Mercedes and Annette see how Eugenio is doing and the Night Cats are preparing their next move. Hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> Once more, thank you to Softandhappy for betareading it! You can join us at the TreeHouse Discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> I would say next chapter won't come out before February for real this time but after this, who knows? shrugs
> 
> See you when I see you, guys!


	25. Chapter 21-End Of The Garland Moon

After I promised Annette I'd try to set up a meeting between her and Gilbert, I knew exactly how to go about it. Now that Hanneman is aware of my knowledge of Fódlan and how I got it, it took me nothing to illustrate the situation between Annette and her father. And to tell him I needed his help to lure Gilbert out.

Hanneman, obviously, wasn't too keen on the idea of tricking Gilbert like this, but when I brought up Annette's point, that she's searched for him for four years to even just hear an explanation for why he did what he did, he relented.

And now, here we are. Hanneman sitting at his desk with the most uncomfortable look I've ever seen from him, me laying on the wall next to the door and Mercedes standing near Hanneman's closet, her usual smile replaced by a neutral expression. All of us waiting.

Someone knocks from outside the office. "Enter," Hanneman tells them. And as the door opens, the person who enters is exactly the tall, heavily armored middle-aged man we were all expecting. Unlike his game counterpart, some of his ginger hair is giving away to gray, but he's otherwise the same.

"You summoned me, Professor?" Gilbert quietly asks Hanneman. That's my cue to shut the door behind him.

"What?" Gilbert asks as he turns to me, brow furrowed. He relaxes when he sees who I am but he still sounds confused as he speaks. "Why did you do that, young man?"

"A precaution to make sure you don't walk away before we're finished," I simply answer and his brow furrows again. I don't dare say more to him. This is the man that ended up in a situation similar to mine, stranded away from his family, but out of his own doing. And unlike me, he chose to wallow in his own self-pity rather than try to fix his mistake. I don't trust myself not to lash out at him.

I nudge towards Mercedes and Gilbert turns around to look at her. Mercedes' mouth hangs slightly open as she sees the man's face properly. "Is it him?" I ask.

"He is!" Annette exclaims as she jumps out of the closet. Gilbert immediately tenses. "Father, it's me!"

"Annette…" the old knight whispers.

Alright, our job here is done. I look at Hanneman and then Mercedes and nudge to the door. Both nod to me and head to it. "We'll give you some privacy," I tell Gilbert and Annette as I reopen the door long enough for the three of us to walk out. And after that, we just stay outside Hanneman's office. Waiting. Hanneman with his arms crossed and Mercedes looking worriedly at the door.

And me still wondering whether this was a good idea. I knew for a fact whatever reunion those two could have would have brought pain for both. But I also knew Gilbert would have made no effort to reconnect with Annette, while she wouldn't have stopped until she did.

"I would like to say that I still don't approve of this," Hanneman tells Mercedes and I as he shakes his head, a disapproving look on his face. "While I understand Miss Annette's desire to see him again, we should have tried to have Sir Gil- Sir _Gustave_ agree to this first."

I shake my own dead, "We were more likely to die of old age before he'd do dat." Hanneman bites his lips while Mercedes looks at me curiously. "Not to mention Annette would have found him eventually."

"How are you so sure of that?" Mercedes asks me, her head tilted.

"Let's just say I know." Telling Hanneman, Alois and Shamir the truth is one thing. I'm not going to dump everything on her.

Mercedes keeps up her curious look for a little longer, only to then give away to one of her closed eyes smiles. "Well, in any case, I'm glad you told Annie this. You did the right thing."

"HOW CAN YOU BE SO CRUEL, FATHER?!"

Hanneman and Mercedes flinch at hearing Annette's shout. I merely purse my lips. "Have I?"

We wait for a while longer. Whatever the father-daughter duo says next within the room, it never reaches the volume of that shout again. And when the door is opened again, Gilbert walks out, eyes closed and gaze lowered to his feet. He doesn't even acknowledge us as he starts walking in the opposite direction. And inside the room, Annette can clearly be heard weeping.

As this unfolds, Mercedes is the first to reenter, rushing to give her friend a comforting hug. Annette doesn't return it as she keeps crying in her arms, but she doesn't resist it either. Hanneman and I are not far behind her, and when we are closer to the duo, Annette's reddened eyes reopen to look at us. Or rather, me.

"I'm sorry," I tell the small girl. "I only wanted to help you. I didn't mean for you to-"

"Thank you," she sighs.

I furrow my brow. "What for?" This didn't exactly go the way she'd hoped.

"For giving me this chance," she replies between sobs. "You tried to warn me this would hurt. But at least now I know where Father is."

I answer with a hesitant nod. I did try to warn her what would happen. A weak try that didn't convey the certainty I had of how this would go. Of how their C support went in the game. Was an attempt like mine worth the kid suffering like this?

I shake my head. What's done is done. I will have to live with it. Like everything else up to this point.

In any case, Annette is down. Two more to go.

* * *

One good thing that came out of revealing the truth to Hanneman is the fact that I now have someone to ask which courses the other students are following without raising suspicions. The most I have to do is explain to the mage why I'm asking and just hope he agrees. Which he has for the three students I've asked so far. And I think I'll start with the most urgent of them: Ashe.

As a simple fictional character I saw from a screen, Ashe was one of my favourite among the Blue Lions. A gentle kid that managed to remain pure—at least, by Three Houses' standards—throughout losing his birth parents, a foster brother and a foster father. How much he idolized knights could become eye-rolling, but that was the one true gripe I had with him.

But now that he's not only an actual person with goals and beliefs, but a person with goals and beliefs that hardly align with mine, I have a feeling he's going to be a lite version of Ingrid. Lite merely because he's not nearly as confrontational as her.

Although this is just speculation for the moment. I haven't interacted much with the other Lions outside of Mercedes and Annette up to this point, so maybe if I actually try to interact with him we'll hit it off. Of course, part of the reason I haven't interacted much with him is because we follow mostly different courses. And most of the few we do share are ones where I'm usually busy training with Felix.

That leaves me one option: Equestrian Skills. And my best bet with that is asking to be paired up with him. But to do that, I first need to ask permission from Professor Gunter.

"Oh?" is the walking joke's reaction. "I had actually hoped you and Miss Ingrid would work together again. Has some kind of problem come between the two of you?"

Eh...sort of? I mean, we haven't talked that much about our last debate, but we didn't end that on the best of terms. But to call it a problem already…

"Let's just say she and I have differing opinions about de world," I opt to reply as I shrug. "I tought it would be in bot of our interests to give each oder some space."

"Ah, I see." He rubs his chin. "I suppose my people's code of chivalry can seem too idealistic to others." To put it mildly. "My apologies. With you being a Blue Lion, I tend to forget you are actually from the Alliance."

...after all that has happened since the Night Cats' attack, I had honestly forgotten that was the story I was originally going with.

In any case, he and I exchange a few more words, after which he agrees to let me work with Ashe. He accompanies me to a stall where Ashe is already tending to two horses that look...weird. They both stand out from other horses, with one being a beef of an equine, taller and more muscular than its fellows, and the other strangely thinner than normal. Do they suffer from gigantism and anorexia respectively?

"Oh, Professor Gunter, Mister Eugenio," Ashe greets when he notices us. "Do you need anything?"

"Good news, my boy!" The professor slaps me on the shoulder and I end up having to massage it. "You've got some help at tending to Cain and Abel."

...he did not just say what I think he did, right? "Who are you talking about?" I ask the professor, still dumbfounded.

"Cain and Abel!" he repeats, an impossibly proud smile on his face. "The two most impressive, most loyal and friendliest mounts this Monastery has ever had the honor of having! Cain over there," he points at the big one. "Is famous for his impressive strength. So much so that some have started calling him 'the Bull'. And Abel over there," he points at the slim one, "Is the fastest runner I've seen in all my years. He's been nicknamed 'the Panther' for it."

Someone slap me awake, this can't be seriously happening.

After that introduction, not much noteworthy happens. Ashe appears to be surprisingly okay with the idea of working with me and we get to it right away. However, as we go on I notice that he seems...not entirely present. Every action he does feels kind of robotic, he doesn't say much outside of exchanging a few instructions with me, what little he says is without the usual cheerfulness that he had the other times I met him and the look in his eyes feels like he isn't truly looking at what he's doing. Like his mind is on something else. And I fear I know what that is.

When the lesson ends, Ashe immediately turns to leave. Before he can, however, I stop him by saying, perhaps with a tone slightly louder than necessary. "Can you wait a moment, boy?"

Ashe almost jumps at my question but then he recomposes himself as he lets out a nervous chuckle and turns. "Ah, sorry, Mister Eugenio. I didn't mean to be rude."

"You weren't," I reassure him. " I just wanted to ask how you are doing."

He gives me a quizzical look after saying that. "Uh...I'm fine, thank you," he replies half-heartedly. And I shake my head at that answer.

"We bot know you are not," I comment. "Even if I ignored how distracted you seemed today, dere's also de matter wit Lonato."

"Ah," Ashe's smile falls as both his tone of voice and his gaze lower. "_That._"

Good job being too direct, me.

"Look," I groan as I rub my hair, "If you don't want to talk about it wit me, dat's fine. But...I understand being worried about a family member," God only knows how much _my_ family must be for me. "But I would recommend trying to talk to someone about it. If you keep it to yourself...well, you've seen what happened between me and Mercedes."

Ashe's head stays down at my words. He doesn't move a single muscle or say anything.

"Just keep it in mind," I groan before turning to leave. Why did I ever think I could be of help to him?

Well, I may have screwed that one up, but I can't afford to dwell on it right now. I've got one more student to talk with, preferably with his retainer around.

Trying to intercept Dimitri and Dedue during a class shared by all three of us is probably not an option. The only ones that follow that criteria are Fencing and Combat, where I still have the Felix problem.

I can think of only one other solution: meeting them at the end of a lesson those two do share. And as it turns out, those are only Lance Fighting and Armor Studies. Both of which present a few problems. The former is shortly before a course I attend, so I would have little time to talk with them. The latter is also attended by _Edelgard_ of all people. And I would really rather avoid Her Flaming Majesty for the time being.

Although, perhaps there's something else I could try...

* * *

The following day, I manage to catch Dimitri at the end of one of the sword lessons before he can leave. As I do so, Felix takes the chance to give him a quick glare, but I pay that little attention.

"Ah, Mister Eugenio." Dimitri greets me. "Do you need anything?"

I let out a sigh at the boy's formality. "First of all, if I can drop de 'Your Highness' you can drop de 'Mister', boy." Considering what I'm trying to do, we may as well drop the formalities.

"Ah, apologies." He gives a polite bow of his head. "I didn't mean to offend."

"No harm done," I retort. "And second of all, I need to talk wit you and Dedue in private. When would be a good moment?"

Dimitri furrows his brow in confusion. "What do you need to talk with us about?"

I glance around to make sure no one is paying us attention. Then I lean close to one of his ears. "About de Nightcrawlers. Dere's something about dem I want to talk wit de two of you specifically."

Immediately, Dimitri's eyes widen at my words. Then, just as quickly, he furrows them again. "I see," he says with a nod. "Would the training grounds tonight do?"

I nod back. "Perfect."

The day then proceeds as usual. I follow what other lectures I have, spend the afternoon studying magic with Annette and Mercedes and, when night comes, I go to the dining hall, take my portion of dinner from Rebecca and eat by my lonesome. No less than I deserve at this point.

After dinner, I sneak to the training grounds, like I used to before joining the Blue Lions and arrive just shortly before Dimitri and Dedue. The former looks his usual dignified—if only on the surface—self, but strangely there is a wary look in the other's eyes. No idea what that one is for.

"We are here, M-" he cuts himself off mid-sentence and lets out a sigh. "Sorry, Eugenio. It will take some getting used to."

I shrug at that. "It's fine."

The blonde smiles at that. "Glad to hear." He then clears his throat. "So, what did you want to tell us?"

Alright. Here goes nothing.

"I'm afraid it's not so much me telling you someting, but rader you answering someting for me." I fold my arms while Dedue furrows his brow at Dimitri's side. The Prince just keeps looking at me. "When I first described what de Nightcrawlers look like, I noticed de reaction you had." Dimitri stiffens at my words. "And also how you seemed lost in toughts. And you," I point at Dedue, who doesn't have the same reaction as his liege. "You asked how long dey've been operating. A weird question considering what everyone else was asking." If Dedue is feeling anything at that being pointed out, he doesn't show it. "So what's going on wit you two?"

"It's nothing," Dimitri tries to reassure me as he waves his hand dismissively, although he does a poor job at hiding his nervousness from his voice. "I just...was trying to imagine people with such uncanny appearance and-"

"Boy scout," I cut him off and harden my gaze at him. "I know you were de only one to survive de Tragedy of Duscur. I know you don't blame de Duscurians for it. But as your countrymen proved wit dem, people are not rational, least of all a child who witnessed a massacre." I briefly glance at the dark-skinned giant, who still has no reaction. "If Dedue stands by your side right now not just as a bodyguard but also a friend, you _know_ it wasn't his people who did it."

Dimitri doesn't say anything. His gaze just slowly turns away from me while his jaw tightens and his eyes shut closed. Dedue gives him a worried look.

"It was de Nightcrawlers, wasn't it?"

"...yes," he answers with a harder tone, his hands tightening in the process. "I saw them as they butchered all those people. Black-eyed murders with skin as white as the snow all around us. They looked like demons as they reveled in the carnage that was unfolding. Unfolding by their own hands."

As I feared. In the game, Dimitri said he saw it wasn't the people of Duscur who committed the massacre. He never said whether he saw it was the Slitherers.

Dimitri's hardened gaze turns fully to me. "I told my countrymen as much. None believed me. They blamed Duscur for that massacre and I failed to stop them. And many more died because of my failure."

I shake my head at that statement. "No," I say and both of the boys widen their eyes. "You have no blame for Duscur, boy. You did everyting you could to spare innocent lives. De Ag-De Nightcrawlers are responsible for it."

Dedue slightly furrows his brow, but makes no comment on my slip-up. Dimitri apparently doesn't notice it at all. "If I had done everything I could do, the people of Duscur-"

Ah no, boy, you don't get to say that! "Tell me, boys," I cut him off. "Did eider of you ever get to meet your grandparents?"

They answer me with puzzled looks. "Please, just answer," I sigh. "I promise dere's a point to it."

They share a dubious with each other look before they turn back to me.

"I have never met my maternal grandparents," Dimitri starts. "My paternal grandfather died when I was very little. I don't remember him much. As for my grandmother," he takes a pause during which an uncomfortable look passes on his face. "She died four years ago. She could not bear the thought of outliving one of her sons."

Bleached bastards…

"I knew my grandparents well," Dedue chimes in. "They died when Faerghus invaded Duscur."

As I said, bleached bastards.

Despite my thoughts, I manage to maintain my composure and nod to the both of them. "I managed to meet my grandparents, except for one. For years he suffered from a disease that was slowly eating him alive. His wife and son moved heaven and eart to try and save him. But in de end, after years of struggling, my grandfader passed away." I turn to look Dimitri in the eye. "Sometimes even our best is not enough to prevent someting horrible from happening. And whenever dat's de case, de only ting we can do is accept it."

Dimitri's gaze briefly turns to the ground between us before locking eyes with me again. "Your father and grandmother," he hesitantly says. "Did their pain ever fade away?"

I shake my head. "No. But according to my fader, remembering how he was in life and what he would have wanted him to do wit de life he still has helped him press forward."

Dimitri's eyes close after that exchange. He just stands there still as a statue with a grimace on his face.

"Your Highness?" Dedue prods him.

He reopens them and shakes his head. "It's nothing."

With the mess I know his head is, I doubt that's the case. But for that same reason, perhaps it's best if I keep quiet on that for now.

"In any case," Dimitri continues as he clears his face. "Was that all you wanted to know?"

"Dere is one oder ting, actually. Why did you say noting to Rhea or Professor Hanneman or someone else about your suspects?"

"Because I have no proof," Dimitri sighs. "Just like my claims were not heard then, I doubt any claims the Nightcrawlers were there will be heard now."

Debatable. Although that isn't an answer that will convince him. But perhaps…

"Unless it is not _you_ making dose claims." Dimitri and Dedue both furrow their brows. "If de Night Cats were captured and made to confess deir group's crimes, den you would have your proof.

Dimitri crosses his arms. "Do you really think it would be possible to capture them?" His question comes out as sincere, with no hint of denigration or rhetoric.

I shrug. "I don't see why not. De Archbishop never said dey are to be terminated on sight." Though I suspect she'd prefer it that way. "If we can keep dem alive, dere's hope to bring about true justice." The next thing I say is probably superfluous. But knowing Dimitri, it's best he hears it in any case. "If dey die, de trut will die wit dem, Duscur will retain the fault for de Tragedy and its victims will never have peace wit de knowledge dose truly responsible for deir deats got away wit it."

Dedue narrows his eyes as I say all that. Dimitri, on the other hand, merely tenses as I say the last part, hands tightening to his arms, face hardening and legs slightly shaking. As I see him like that, I start wondering whether I went too far with bringing the dead into this.

It comes as relief that he takes a deep breath before speaking again. "I will keep all of that in mind. I...appreciate it."

I nod at that. "Don't mention it."

We say some farewells after that and then we go our separate ways. Dedue doesn't say anything but he keeps a wary look toward me as all of that happens. I have no idea what is going on in his head right now, but I hope he will understand that I'm only trying to help his liege.

And boy, that is going to be a challenge. Dimitri is one of the people with the most messed up shit in the whole game and the one that handles it the absolute worst. The road to trying to patch his head up, even just enough to prevent him from becoming Mister 'Kill every last one of them' is going to be long and bumpy. And I'm no psychiatrist, or whatever equivalent to that Fódlan has. I just pray I don't just make it worse.

_Some might say I am a hypocrite to pursue such a goal. House Essar thrives from the same Crest system I seek to eliminate. And I only started pursuing it when someone close to me was hurt, while there are many out there who suffered long before that happened. That may be true, but it's no excuse not to seek to do good._

Goddamit Hanneman, did you really have to poke my conscience like that?

* * *

"Alright, let's try again," I sigh as I offer my hand to Mercedes one more time, preparing for my palm to be cut again for what must be the tenth time today. When it is, I shudder again but less than the previous times before this one. I'm not sure whether getting used to this is a good signal or not. I suppose I should be grateful it's small cuts on the flesh instead of broken bones or bruises I'm dealing with, though. Those wouldn't be so easy to fix. And at least they won't leave a mess of blood that the workers will struggle to wash off the training ground.

Putting those thoughts aside, I close my eyes and start gathering the magic in my body. From what I could gather from Mercedes' explanations, two things are required to cast Faith Magic: faith, obviously, in something and finding your emotional center. I never was a particular religious person, but according to her, the faith doesn't need to be in some deity, so long as it is faith.

I raise my good hand over the cut one and start focusing. I try to think of the first time I cast Thunder with Hanneman. That thought gives me some joy. I wasn't sure someone like me, an Outworlder from somewhere where magic didn't exist, could pull it off, but I did. And since then, I have put everything I have into learning more of Reason, and it has borne fruit.

...but so what? What good actually came out of it? All I've been able to do with it is stand my ground fighting Lysithea and Felix and...and execute one of the Slitherers. An execution after which I felt nothing. When the battle was finished, I still felt nothing. And even now that so much time has passed, I still feel nothing. What is wrong with me?

That train of thought is interrupted when I feel the warm sensation knitting my skin back together. I open my eyes to see if it is my doing. But again, it's Mercedes.

"Merda," I groan. "Not again."

"Hey, don't give up just yet," Annette tries to encourage me. "I'm sure you're getting to it!"

I turn to stare Mercedes in the eyes. "Am I?" When she doesn't reply and tries to avoid eye contact with me, I know what the truth is. Splendid.

"Come on, don't beat yourself up!" Annette insists. "I wasn't good either when I started!"

I bet she also wasn't trying to catch up to other students, though.

"Can we try something?" Mercedes asks out of the blue. Annette looks confusedly at her. And so do I.

"What?" I ask.

"Wait here," she replies. "I'll be just a moment." She goes for the entrance and leaves the area.

"What is she up to?" I ask Annette confusedly. She shakes her head.

"No idea," she replies, just as confused.

Thankfully, it isn't long before Mercedes returns to us, with a leaf in her hand. A leaf that seems perfectly normal to me, but Annette gives it a wide eyed look that she then turns to Mercedes.

"Now," Mercedes raises the leaf. "We are going to try something different. Instead of casting Heal, you will attempt to cast Nosferatu."

Now it's my turn to look at her wide-eyed "I haven't been able to cast de most basic Fait spell, and you want me to try Nosferatu?"

The healer-to-be nods. "Nosferatu is an offensive Faith spell, rather than a healing one. Instead of positive emotions, they are channeled by more...negative ones."

I arch an eyebrow. "And why do you want to see if I can cast it?" I ask. She herself said negative emotions were not good for me.

"The reason why you are having difficulties casting Heal could be one of two," she answers. "This will help determine which it is."

...well, she's the expert on Faith among the three of us, so I guess I'll go along with it.

After repeating the cut the palm routine, I open my good hand again and this time reach out to the leaf. I'm still not sure what I should have faith in, but unlike before, I have plenty of negative memories to choose from. Especially among the most recent ones. The first time I met Lysithea, when I had to blackmail Seteth, the Demonic Beast, the Night Cats' attack, Rhea's decision to make me a Blue Lion.

But there is one that stands out to me. One that involves Shamir. Specifically, when I first saw what Lion had done to her. I may have hidden things from her, but I wasn't the one who beat her within an inch of her life. That hag did. And next time I see her I'll make sure she knows just what kind of suffering she brought on Shamir.

As I think that, I feel my hand knitting together once more. I half-expect Mercedes to be the one to have healed me again. But as I open my eyes, I find she's still just holding the leaf. The leaf that has dried out from before and now looks ready to fall into pieces.

Holy shit, it worked?

"You did it!" Annette excitedly says. "Good job!"

"Tank you," I tell Annette, although Mercedes pursing her lips as she looks at the dried leaf doesn't seem to bode well. "You said dis was to determine why I can't cast Heal," I tell the older girl. "Do you have an idea?"

Mercedes takes a moment before answering. "The fact that you were able to cast Nosferatu means you have understood how to cast Faith Magic. In that case, I think what you are having difficulties with is finding your emotional center." She glances at the leaf again. "At least, when it comes to healing."

I let out a sigh at that and lower my head. Guess I now know why Byleth thought Faith would be good for me. "Easier said dan done."

Mercedes places a hand on my shoulder. "I know," she gently says. "But I believe you are on the right path. You _can_ do this."

I hope you're right Mercedes, but I'm not counting on it. At least I now know I have some chances going forward with Faith Magic, even if I cannot heal.

* * *

On the twenty-third of the month, Hanneman gathers all of the Blue Lions for an announcement, one that most are speculating is our mission for this month. If that is the case, the only thing I'm expecting is that the Golden Deer will be the ones to take on Lonato's forces. Beyond that, I'm as much in the dark as all the other students.

One rumor that runs between the other Lions, though, has me worried. That we could be sent after the Cats right this month. If that is true, I'm worried about how it will turn out. We have them outnumbered, but they are far more experienced. And experience tends to beat numbers, especially when it's just two-to-one.

"Good morning, Blue Lions," Hanneman greets us as he enters the classroom, immediately silencing any form of chatter and getting everyone's attention. He folds his arms before continuing. "As of yesterday evening, I have been informed of what our mission for this month is going to be." A hand shoots up before the mage can continue. "Yes, Mister Ashe?"

"Are we going to be sent against Lord Lonato's forces?" the small boy asks with a shaky voice.

Hanneman shakes his head. "No. That will be the Golden Deer's mission. Not ours."

Murmurs spread among the students again, mostly of confusion as to why they weren't the ones chosen to take care of this mission. The one person who doesn't join into the murmurs is Ashe, who just purses his lips as he looks in the distance.

After letting the murmurs go for a little, Hanneman clears his throat and recalls everyone to attention. "Ours is going to take us to the west of the County of Rowe, to an abandoned village where slavers have settled."

The question that comes out of some of the students' mouths is the same as the one in my head. "Slavers?"

"Yes," Hanneman nods. "During the last few weeks, villages in Arundel territory have been attacked by brigands who kidnapped some of their citizens and took them past the border with the Kingdom. Lord Arundel has been able to do little without risking a diplomatic incident with Count Rowe. And thus, he turned to the Church."

I replay the name in my head. Lord Arundel. Also known as Thales' cover identity.

"If Lord Arundel already knows where the slavers are, why would Count Rowe refuse to aid him?" Dimitri intervenes, brow furrowed. "He would not allow such people to roam free in his land, would he?"

Hanneman's stance shifts at that question. "That is related to why we have been assigned this mission." The room falls deathly silent at that comment. "Lord Arundel did not know where they are operating from. Knight-Lieutenant Riley was dispatched to locate them. She did, but she also discovered something else." He takes a moment to glance at all of us, his gaze lingering on me longer than on the others. "Among their ranks there is a pale-skinned sorceress. One that we believe is one of the Nightcrawlers."

I freeze at the news while the others let out gasps. One of the Slitherers? Found thanks to a lead from Thales? It can't be a coincidence.

"Is it Lion?" I hear Annette ask.

Hanneman shakes his head. "The description didn't match her. Nor did it match Tigress." He scratches his chin in thought. "It would appear we are not dealing with the Night Cats specifically. Perhaps this is one simply overseeing another operation."

No one asks anything else after that, but I notice some of the other students glancing at me. I try my best to ignore them.

"In any case," Hanneman thankfully continues. "We will depart the Monastery by the end of this week and join Lieutenant Riley's forces. She will then brief us on the situation." He gives everyone a short nod. "I wish all of you good luck with your exams."

Murmurs of assent answer his well-wishing, after which everyone leaves the classroom and heads for their respective class. I, however, choose to stay for the moment.

When he sees it, Hanneman approaches me, furrows his brow and crosses his arms. "So, what do you make of this?"

"It's a trap," I openly state. "Solon figured out I'm a bait and now he's baiting us back."

The mage nods. "I agree. And I voiced my concerns this is a trap. But the Archbishop believes that between Lieutenant Riley's scouting and your knowledge of the 'Nightcrawlers' you will be able to counter anything they have in store."

I arch an eyebrow. "She believes dat? Or is dat just an excuse to hide her lust for Agartan blood?"

The mage wrinkles his nose. "That is what worries me."

Wonderful. "Can we at least trust dis Lieutenant Riley?"

Hanneman relaxes a bit when I ask that. "She is a capable leader and a keen planner. She was once a student of mine and I've observed her career in the Knights firsthand, so I can vouch for her skills."

Oh the wonders of teaching for well over a decade.

"Very well," I sigh. "I hope her skills include improvisation, because I have no idea what de Agartans have in store for us dere."

Hanneman gives me a solemn nod.

* * *

As one could expect, this Academy's exams aren't like in the game where you're given a percentage of success, watch your unit compile some papers and then see if they made it or not. No, these tests are more akin to actual tests, at least to a degree. There is a theoretical part consisting of questions you must answer, questions about magic if you're taking the Monk exam or about human anatomy if you're taking one of the other three. If one succeeds with the theory, they get to try out the practical part, which consists of holding the line against shadowy constructions conjured by the Church's personnel, using only specific types of weapons that depend on the test taken.

In an attempt to narrow the gap between me and my fellow classmates, I decide to try out both the Monk exam and the Fighter exam this month. I pass the former with surprising ease, scoring a pretty good result with the theory and lasting against the apparitions long enough to satisfy the professors overseeing the test.

The latter, however, while I do pass it, proves to be more difficult. I manage to pass the theoretical part by the skin of my teeth, just the bare minimum to be accepted for the practical test, which already means I'll need to work harder to pass it at all. And against the apparitions I fare well at the start, but as the exercise goes on my asthma makes itself more and more noticeable. It comes to a moment where I can't go on and have to stop to cough, giving one of the apparitions the chance to 'run me over' with its axe, essentially ending the test. I lasted just the bare minimum to pass it, but one of the professors wasn't shy of saying he felt I should be rejected just because of _how_ I lost to the apparitions. Thankfully, he was outvoted by his colleagues.

However, passing the tests isn't the end of it. There's also one more thing with the fact this is a military academy: trying out the field gear. Normally, the Monastery has sets of armor of various types and sizes ready to be used by students who completed their tests. And apparently, if the one wearing them has a preference of color, the Monastery's personnel can enchant them to be that color. Truth to be told, it's weird but not weirder than some stuff I've already seen.

As for me, with the exams I've passed I can pick either the Monk's robes or the Fighter's leather armor. I opt to go for the former. It will offer less physical protection and is more limiting with movement, but since it's enchanted to help channel and resist magic, it undoubtedly fits an asthmatic like me better. And besides, there's nothing preventing me from going armed with gauntlets either way.

* * *

The day before our departure, Hanneman gives us all a sudden announcement: Ashe will not come with us to the Rowe County. He requested to join the Golden Deer on their mission in Gaspard. And his request has been accepted.

It seems my attempts to reach out with him were too little too late. Now his fate is all up to Byleth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And chapter. Eugenio tries to interact some more with the students, we get to see how his studies at the Officers' Academy are going and we're set for this month's mission. Hope you guys liked this.
> 
> Once more, thank you to Softandhappy for betareading it! You can join us at the TreeHouse Discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> See you next time, folks!


	26. Chapter 22-Scum And Villainy

Setting out for the Rowe County was pretty much the same as before. We rendezvoused with Hanneman in the classroom, we met up with an escort of Knights that is supposed to accompany us and departed Garreg Mach. The only difference from last month is the absence of a certain couple of archers.

According to Hanneman, the village where Thales' goons have set up is more distant than the Myrddin bridge, so travel to that place will also take longer. And it will take even longer because we're apparently going to circumvent Gaspard territory to avoid unwelcome clashes with Lonato's forces. Joy.

Well, at least this time I have more things to do. Now that I'm an official Blue Lion, I no longer need to worry about keeping my study sessions with Mercedes and Annette secret. And as Dimitri gathers the Blue Lions for a training round when we make our first break, I learn that's not the only thing I'm going to be busy with.

"Very well, let's split into pairs, everyone," Dimitri announces once we're all gathered around him. Ingrid and Dedue are by his side almost right away. Mercedes and Annette chat between themselves. Sylvain steps aside for the moment. And Felix has his eyes already on me.

Guess I know who I'm getting paired with.

"Excuse me, Eugenio?" Mercedes' question draws my attention to her, and I see Annette going to the others. "Would it be okay if I train with you?"

Oh? "Why me? Is dere a problem between you and Annette?" Please don't tell me they've had that fight from their B support, I don't want to have to deal with them being awkward around each other for the rest of the year.

"No, of course not," she giggles, to my relief. "But I've seen you have become more proficient than her with swords."

I mentally sigh. With Felix as a sparring partner during Fencing lessons you either get good quick or you get beaten up bad. Why did I think winning against him when I could use magic would mean I could take him when locked to just swords? At least now I'm nowhere near the level of skill he, Dimitri or Ingrid are, but I'm acceptable by his standards.

"You could say dat," I just answer.

"Good." She smiles at me. "Then maybe you can help me with my form."

I quirk an eyebrow at her statement, which prompts her to continue. "I tried to take the Myrmidon test before the mission, but…" the angles of her mouth turn downwards. "I didn't pass it."

Ouch. "How did dat happen?"

"Despite my best efforts, I still can't seem to understand how to properly hold the sword. My grip tends to always be either too loose or too tight." She wraps her hands together in front of her face. "Honestly I'm not sure if I'm cut out for swordsmanship."

Is that so? "You know, if Fencing isn't one subject you particularly like, you could try following anoder course," I tell her. There really is no point in following a course she's not interested in.

Mercedes responds with a sweet smile. "I appreciate the sentiment. But I wanted to follow the professors' advice to train with a melee weapon. Unfortunately, I'm not too good with any of them, but I'm told swords are the easiest to learn."

Yeah, I can see where she's coming from. In the game she was crap with swords, crap with lances, crap with axes and crap with-

Wait a moment.

I start rubbing my chin in thought. "Have you considered trying out Brawling?"

She widens her eyes in shock at my question. "I beg your pardon?"

"It isn't such a farfetched idea," I continue. "What you truly need for dat is just your pair of hands. Someting you have on you all de time. No need to wield a heavy piece of metal or having to properly adjust your grip on it."

"But…" she hesitates as an agitated look spreads on her face. "I don't know if I have the strength to fight bare-handed."

I click my tongue at that statement of hers. "It's not a matter of strengt. It's a matter of technique." Mercedes' face shifts to a neutral expression. "To quote Professor Bylet, it's a matter of applying your head as well as your strengt. If you face someone stronger, you need to be quicker. And if you can't, you have to outsmart dem. Hit dem where dey can be incapacitated."

Mercedes listens to me attentively throughout my explanation, the blink of her eyes the only movement from her.

"I'm no master of Karate, but I can show you de ropes to help you get started somehow. Dat is," I arch an eyebrow. "If you're willing?"

Mercedes briefly purses her lips before answering. "Well, if you think I can learn, I believe I can try."

Guess I'll take that answer.

"Alright, first tings first," I point at her legs. "Footing." She looks down at her boots. "Whenever you're in a battle scenario, it's imperative you make sure both feet are well-planted to de ground. Oderwise you'll easily loose balance and become an easy target."

"And I have to bend my knees to help spread the weight to my feet?" Mercedes tentatively asks as she raises her head back to me. "Like Professor Jeritza said?"

Ah, goody. Seems her crazed brother did some good for her. "Precisely."

Mercedes adjusts herself as I told her. Her posture is not perfect, what with her legs spread too narrowly, but I think it's best not to scare her away with too many corrections.

"Now," I continue. "Next step is your upper body. Specifically, de shoulders." I point at those. "Dey need to be relaxed, or de tension will hinder your punches."

"Uhm…" Mercedes nervously glances at her shoulders. "Is this good enough?"

With her left shoulder covered by her hair, I can't get a proper look on that one. But if her right one is anything to go by, she's actually tensing up.

"Relax," I tell her. "Take a deep breat. And try to keep dem as you would normally."

Mercedes does just that. Her right shoulder is still tensed up after that, but not to the same extent as before. I suppose that'll do for a beginning.

"Now," I step closer to her and raise an opened hand. "Punch."

Mercedes looks at it uncomfortably but after a bit she clenches her right fist. She aims it at my hand and then she...basically gives me a light tap.

Oh, come on, girl!

"Harder," I tell her.

She puts a bit more force behind her punch this time around, but it's still a very weak punch.

"Harder," I repeat. "Punch as hard as you can."

"But-"

"Do it."

Mercedes purses her lips. Then she charges her right hook. And then it connects with my hand. And boy, did I underestimate how much of a punch she could pack.

I hiss in pain as I massage my palm. Mercedes does the same as she massages her knuckles. Looks like recoil is a bitch as usual.

"I'm sorry," Mercedes soon says. "I didn't mean to-"

"No, no, it's okay," I cut her off. "Bit stronger dan I'd anticipated, but now I know what I'm working wit."

"Now," I continue when I'm feeling better with my hand. "Let's continue. We have a lot to cover."

Mercedes reacts with an uncomfortable look. Not that I can blame her. Getting started is always the hardest part with karate. Let's just hope I'm not the kind of teacher that can't keep up his students' interest.

* * *

After a couple of days, we finally arrive at the border of Gaspard territory, and from there, instead of keeping on the trail we were following, we deviate to the south-west, with the intent of following the entire border, planning to resume the proper path once we're in the actual County.

On the first night of this deviated path, while I'm dining beside Mercedes and Annette, the latter seems lost in thought as she stares in the distance, a concerned look on her face.

"Is something wrong?" I and Mercedes ask almost simultaneously, much to my embarrassment and her amusement.

Annette, on her part, turns back to us, a mortified look on her face. "I'm sorry guys," she says embarrassedly, "I was just…" She turns back to where she was looking. "I was thinking about Ashe. And what he is going to go through with the Golden Deer."

Oh. _That_. Yikes.

"I see," Mercedes replies, her face immediately falling. "I agree with you. I can't imagine what having to fight a family member would be like."

Oh boy. I haven't thought of a way to explain the whole Emile-Jeritza-Death Knight headache to her, but that sure is not going to be pretty to explain.

"What I don't understand is why," Annette continues. "He could have come with us and not have to fight his father. I know I wouldn't want to fight anyone from my family."

Then it's a good thing you are not in a position where you may be forced to.

I take a deep breath before adding my own two cents. "When I was your age, Annette, I had a crush on a classmate of mine." Both girls turn to look at me dubiously. "However, I was afraid of being rejected in case I told her. But what my parents told me was 'better to know dan wallow in what ifs'." Annette furrows her brow, but before she can say anything, I add, "Dis is nowhere near as grave as what is going on between Ashe and Lonato, but de principle is arguably de same. Ashe had no idea of what Lonato was going to do, nor did anyone else. De only one who could give answers is de man himself. Ashe understood dat and decided dis was better dan never knowing. Even if it's going to hurt like hell."

The ginger bean breaks eye contact with me as an uncomfortable look comes into her eyes. The marshmallow-hair girl just gives me a sympathetic smile that doesn't reach her eyes.

"How did it go with that girl you liked?" Annette asks. And I let out a sigh as the memory of what she told me returns with all its irony.

"She had a very good reason why she couldn't return my feelings: I was a boy."

Mercedes widens her eyes at that. Annette looks at me confusedly before she also widens hers. "Oh!" she gasps. "That must have been...awkward."

"Yeah, dat's one word to call it." 'Depressing' would be a more appropriate way to describe how I felt at that moment. "But frankly, it probably was for de best. At least I can look back at dat crush I had wit no regrets. It was sad to learn I had no chance, but I moved on, she moved on and neider made a bigger deal dan it had to be."

"I'm not so sure watching a family member die will be the same as being rejected," Mercedes comments half-heartedly.

"Perhaps," I concede. "But consider dis: whatever happens to Lonato, it's bound to bring Ashe grief regardless of wheder he's dere or not. But perhaps hearing Lonato's motives will bring him some peace." Even if his motives amount to just grief-induced lunacy and being duped.

Mercedes gives a solemn nod to my words, while Annette just purses her lips. And after that, we thankfully manage to move the conversation to lighter topics.

* * *

After several days of marching, we finally arrive within reach of our destination. First order of business then becomes finding and getting in contact with the Knights already in place. And Hanneman decides to take us Blue Lions ahead and do just that.

One good thing about this village the slavers occupied is that it's in the middle of lowlands, so it's easy to see and avoid. Of course, that also means we're easy targets to spot, but fortunately there's some woods in which we can hide.

"How do we proceed now, Professor?" Dimitri asks on behalf of everyone.

"For now, we wait," the mage answers, which gets confused looks from all of us. "Our instructions said that Lieutenant Riley would be the one to find us."

"And good thing too," a feminine voice chimes in. "I wouldn't be good at this job if you kids could find me."

Aside from Hanneman, who just looks strangely annoyed, everyone is startled by the new voice and we look around in search of where it came from. But somehow, there doesn't seem to be anyone here aside from us.

"Whoa, look over there!" Sylvain exclaims as he points somewhere upward. And looking at where he's pointing there is a woman with a blonde ponytail hanging upside down as her legs are wrapped on a tree branch. She has arms crossed and is smiling smugly at our group. The only reason no one panics is because of the lighter variant of the Knights of Seiros' armor she's wearing.

"Hello, old man," she states as her eyes land on Hanneman. "Still feeling as brimming with life as ever?"

"Riley," Hanneman sighs as he turns to look at her. "Must you always do these theatrics?"

In response to that question, the Lieutenant lets go of the branch, does a flip midair and gracefully lands on her feet, her back turned to us.

"Theatrics can be useful with subterfuge," the woman says while she turns to us, smile and arms no different from before. "What better way to practice them than this?"

Hanneman rubs the bridge of his nose before he speaks again. "Blue Lions, this is Knight-Lieutenant Riley Ferreira."

"Greetings, Dame Riley," Dimitri immediately says before bowing to her. A bow followed by most of us minus Felix. I opt to just give a nod.

"No need for so much formality, kid," the Knight lightly dismisses the gesture, before taking a more business-like expression. "Now, my group would have dealt with these slavers scum already, but Lady Rhea sent back word to wait for you lot. Something about this class having someone with intelligence about that pale witch we spotted." She glances at all the students. "Which one of you is that?"

Oh boy, showtime. Yeah…

I put up a hand. "Dat would be me." The lieutenant turns to me and her expression...seems to harden.

"Is that so?" she asks as she leans over me, her tone less warm than before. Several of the other students give the scene some uncomfortable looks. "Well, what is she then? Some sort of cultist from Dagda?"

Oh great, it's one of _those_ Knights.

Before anything else can be said, Hanneman clears his throat and draws her attention away from me. "Eugenio here is a full-fledged member of the Blue Lions House," he says with a scolding tone. "And is to be treated as such."

The Lieutenant gives him a quick glance before leaning back. "Duly noted," she flatly replies before turning back to me. "So what is she, then?"

Really off to a good start with this one.

I clear my throat. "Your cult assumption is wrong only because cults involve some sort of religious belief." She quirks an eyebrow but doesn't say anything else. "Dey're a group only known as 'de Nightcrawlers'. Dey're responsible for kidnapping people and conducting experiments on dem."

The Lieutenant furrows her brow. "So what you're telling me is that these compatriots of yours are clients of these slavers'?"

By all accounts, this jab is not the worst I've ever heard, be it directed at me or anyone. And it's all based on a pile of wrong assumptions on this bigot's end. So it shouldn't irritate me too much. But the thought of being considered a compatriot of Lion's…

"Dey are no compatriots of mine!" I snap at this whore, who just gives me an unamused look.

"What he means," Mercedes intervenes, coming between the two of us with a nervous smile on her face. "Is that he actually knows very little about them. They operated in his country for years without leaving much of a trail and now they've come to Fódlan. They attacked us last month."

Lieutenant Riley relaxes at her words. "You mean they were those assassins controlling Demonic Beasts I've heard about?" Mercedes nods to her question. "So the objective with this one is apprehend and interrogate. Sounds fine by me."

At the corner of my vision, I notice Dimitri and Dedue glancing and nodding to each other. Good, there's hope the Boy Scout will restrain his murderous urges.

"Okay, then I have a plan," the bigot continues. "Last we checked, the witch had hauled herself up within the barrack where the slaves are being kept. If you students and your escort can cause a distraction, me and my team will handle both."

"That sounds reasonable," Hanneman responds. Ingrid and Annette have to be called off from aiding the Knights, but for the rest the students are in agreement with the plan.

"Be extremely careful wit 'de witch'," I chime in after that, even though the Lieutenant doesn't seem to pay me too much mind. "De Nightcrawlers are devious and unpredictable."

"Sure, sure," the Knight waves me off as she walks away. Bitch.

"Very well," Hanneman intervenes. "You've heard her, Blue Lions. Let's go back."

The other students move out after that prompt, but I linger back with Hanneman. "You didn't say she was such a racist."

Hanneman lets out a sigh. "To be honest, her rudeness took me by surprise as well. Anti-Dagda sentiments are not uncommon within the Empire, but back when I taught her she wasn't so vocal."

"Did you ever see her interact wit _anyone_ of Dagdan origin?"

He presses his lips together as he thinks my question over. "No," he ultimately admits. "I didn't."

Figures.

"But rest assured, whatever impression she might have given you, she's still a Lieutenant of the Knights of Seiros. One does not receive that title without earning it. She _will _capture whoever we are dealing with."

For her sake, I hope you're right, Hanneman.

* * *

It's weird. With the kind of gauntlets that were used for training at Garreg Mach, I thought all the pointy stuff in the game was just for show. But as I'm given a pair of actual iron gauntlets, and as I see the two claws protruding from the knuckles of each gauntlet, I quickly realize it wasn't. I had hoped I could try to take down these slavers non-lethally, but with these...oh, boy.

Well, at least I'm not going to be on the front lines for this. Due to my mixed skill set, Hanneman and Dimitri decided I was better off with our ranged forces. I can aid with my own spells but I can also cover the archers and the other mages should someone sneak on the group.

A scenario I hope doesn't occur. I won't be the only one reacting if it does, but having to watch others die by my own hand…

Hanneman letting out a deep breath stirs me away from those thoughts. After we organized a plan, all he's done has been looking in the direction of the occupied village and letting out deep breaths.

"Are you alright, Professor?" I ask him.

"I am," he responds reassuringly, even though he doesn't turn to me. "I'm only hoping we can deal with these slavers soon."

Oh? Where does this eagerness come from? "Dis really doesn't sound like you, Professor," I tell Hanneman as I cross my arms. "I agree slavery is abhorent, but why so eager to indulge in a battle?"

The older man gives a shake of his head as he keeps his gaze toward the village. "It is merely for those that are suffering because of them. You will never find more wretched scum and villainy than in those seeking to turn their fellow human beings into something lesser for nothing more than profit." It's at this point he turns to me, face set in a frown. "Be it through slavery, or through exploitation of their Crests."

Or through whatever the hell the Slitherers did to Lysithea and Edelgard.

Hanneman lets out a sigh as he relaxes his face. "But that's enough about me. Do you feel ready for this?"

I raise my gauntleted hands and show them to him. "Wheder I feel it or not, I must be ready at dis point," I groan. "I'm not here for sightseeing."

Hanneman briefly purses his lips before he speaks again. "Professor Manuela said you claimed not to remember killing that Night Cat." He furrows his brow. "She also said she wasn't sure you were telling the truth."

...figured it out, did he? Well, I suppose this was a conversation I was bound to have. "She was right," I groan. "What happened dere...I didn't want to talk about it. De tought I killed someone..."

Hanneman places a hand on my shoulder, "There is nothing to be ashamed of," he states matter of factly. "You were defending yourself. It is true ending a life is off-putting, but-"

"Dat's just it," I cut him off with a gulp. "Ending a life should be off-putting. Should not leave someone de same, least of all if it's the first time." I glance at my hands "And yet, when I did, I felt noting. No remorse, no disgust, noting. It was as if it were a normal ting to do." Hanneman's jaw hangs open at my words. "Even after, I still felt noting. De event didn't replay in mind over and over or anyting like dat. It didn't even come to my mind unless someone brought it up first." I start shaking. "Now dat I'm about to end more lives, I should be horrified. But instead I still…" I raise my head and stare into Hanneman's stupefied eyes. "What is wrong wit me, Professor?!"

Hanneman takes a moment to recollect himself before speaking again. "There is nothing wrong with you."

"How can you say dat?"

"The fact that you recognize you should feel something when you are not means more than you imagine," the mage insists. "You know ending a life is not something that is to be taken lightly. That you are frightened by how little you are feeling about it proves as much."

I lower my head. "It still doesn't make it feel right."

"True. But a first kill is something that one way or another never feels right." I raise my head to look at him questioningly "Even without taking into consideration all the students I've taught during these years and how they dealt with their own first kills, I remember well mine. Back when I myself was a student, my class was sent to deal with a group of bandits. One of them snuck behind us and I had to shoot an arrow in his throat." His gaze falls away from me. "That was one of the most haunting experiences of my life. Even decades later, I have never forgotten it. And it is unlikely I ever will."

Silence follows Hanneman's speech, the two of us just looking at one another. At least a dozen questions go through my head as I mull over his words. The first one I manage to voice is probably the least important of the lot.

"An arrow? _You_ were your class' archer?"

If he's surprised by that being my question, he doesn't show it. "Indeed. At least, I was at the beginning of the year. But as it went on, I came to realize I favoured magic over archery."

Huh, that's...interesting, I suppose?

"Excuse me, Professor? Eugenio?" Annette, who I had not noticed approach us, intervenes before our conversation can continue. "The Knights say we're ready."

At hearing that, I take a deep breath. Looks like it's showtime.

* * *

The plan of attack is a simple one: most of the heavy armored Knights walk right to the village, distract the bandits on the edges long enough to give time for the Cavaliers to circumvent the village and attack from the side and then we infantry units would join in.

Our ranged forces consist of me, Mercedes, Annette, Hanneman and a trio of archer Knights. And another heavy-armored Knight that is supposed to defend us in case of flanking. And he's not the only one, as it turns out.

"Are you sure you won't need me to attack as well?" I ask Hanneman while we wait for the Cavaliers to engage. "I'm probably more useful wit my spells right now."

"I'm well aware," Hanneman replies. "But for now we need to keep you as a reserve. If too many of us run out of arrows or spell uses, you can join in. For now just focus on assisting Sir Derrick here in covering us."

Wonder if the battle will truly last so long that we'll need a reserve.

After that exchange, we just wait. I don't know how everyone else is feeling right now, but something about waiting for hell to break loose is kind of unnerving for me. If there's something I learned from the fight with that demonic wyvern, it's that amidst the chaos you're too busy focusing on all that is going on to worry about anything else. But waiting for it to begin, with no idea of what awaits us—or rather, what trick the Slitherers will have up their sleeves—is maddening.

Thankfully we don't have to wait long before we hear shouts from deeper within the village.

"Attack!" one of the Knights from the front orders.

All that happens after, happens faster than I imagined it would. With the slavers' attention taken away from our main force, the charge quickly breaks their ranks and several of them go down before they get the chance to recover from the surprise. The ones who don't find themselves quickly locked with one of the Knights in rather one-sided fights. There are still some archers into this mix, but the ones that the Cavaliers don't trample or impale are taken out by ours with relative ease. And speaking of, our group stays by the sidelines but follows the front fighter all throughout our charge, offering support fire to fighters on our side who are facing difficulties - mainly one of the students joining the melee - or dealing with enemy archers.

Still, watching so many die...it's nothing like in the movies. Nothing like watching the massive wounds pouring blood or witnessing bodies still as statues or seeing the glassy eyes that stare into nothing. It's just not right. And worst of all, even as I think that, I still manage to maintain my composure. Just...how?

"Oi! Get 'em!"

I turn in the direction of that shout and am met by the sight of three axemen and a swordsman charging at our group. And at the side of my vision, I see the armored Knight unsheathing his longsword and charging back at the four shield-first. In his charge, the Knight manages to push back three of the attackers, but one axeman slips past him. Leaving me to deal with him.

I grit my teeth and raise my fists. This guy is taller than me, but I think I know just how to handle him. I've got just one shot at doing this right, though.

The wide swing of his axe makes his intended attack far too obvious by the time he's within reach. Wasting no time, I aim one of my arms at the fingers holding the hilt of the weapon and they meet with the metal of the gauntlet, stopping his attack. As the slaver howls in pain, I take the opportunity and aim a right hook at his chest, hoping to force the air out of his lungs.

Too bad I had forgotten about the claws. The same claws that cut through his flesh and into his lung, forcing a gasp to come out of his mouth and blood to be gurgled up.

As the man's eyes lose focus and his body becomes limp, my arm the only thing keeping it from falling, I can't help but freeze in place. Another life ended by me, this time by accident. But this time I get to actually see the face of the one I killed, and the stony expression that seems to scream 'why me and not you?'.

"Look out!"

At hearing the Knight's warning, I turn to him and see the sword-wielding slaver has slipped past him and is heading for me. Left with little time before he closes the gap between the two of us, I place his associate's body between me and him and kick it off the gauntlet and toward him. It briefly slows the swordsman but doesn't stop his charge. It just gives me enough time to recompose myself and prepare to parry.

Now one thing about swords: they don't pack the punch an axe does, but they are much easier to swing around. And thus, more difficult to parry or dodge in time. A fact this guy uses to full advantage as he keeps me on the defensive with his wide swings. Although I have to assume he's not actually that experienced with the thing if swings are all he can do. Or maybe he's trying to lull me into some sort of false security, which is more worrisome.

To avoid finding out which it is, at his next swing I attempt a crazy move: I roll under the swing, get next to his closest leg and slice the muscle with the gauntlets' claws. It's only when I hear him cry out in pain and he kneels on his wounded leg that I realize it worked.

"You…" is all the guy manages to hiss out before a sword severs his head from the neck, to my utter surprise. And turning to see who did that, I find the Knight, his previously pristine white armor now stained with blood.

"Apologies, I didn't mean to let him get past me," he says with a calmer voice than it has any right to be considering the situation he's in. "Are you okay?"

Just how does he manage to remain so calm after beheading someone?

"I'm...fine," I tell him, sounding more calm than I thought I would be.

"Good." He offers me a hand. "Now get up. This battle isn't over yet."

I half-register doing it, but I grab the offered hand and he lifts me up. And then we pressed forward with the others.

While the battle progresses, at some point Lieutenant Riley and a pair of other Knights with her same outfit appear on the roof of one of the barracks and start raining arrows down on the slavers' backlines, but I'm not able to pay too much attention to it.

Before the whole thing is over, our group is ambushed a couple more times. The Knight manages to take the worst of those on by himself, but I still have to fight off three more men.

The first one, I manage to stab the shoulder of his dominant arm and then knock him out with a hard chop at the side of his neck.

The second one, I kick a knee from under him and backhand him with all my strength, the claws leaving two wide gashes on his face.

The third one, I stun with an Elthunder and then knee his genitals.

All three times, the Knight finishes those men off even though they no longer pose a threat. I'm tempted to rebuke him for doing it even though they no longer were a threat. But every time I try to voice my complaints, my head immediately goes to the first guy I fought today. The one I gutted myself. And how now I'm feeling the same as what I felt with the Slitherer: nothing.

I pray it is only the battle fever. Because even with what Hanneman told me, feeling nothing even a second time is not right.

* * *

When the battle is over, the majority of the Knights starts sorting through the bodies of the fallen. The majority is composed of the slavers, but I think I manage to spot a couple of white armors among the lot too.

The ones who don't, gather around the barrack where the slavers were being sniped from and, when the doors open, help the freed slaves out of it.

As for us Blue Lions, Hanneman tells everyone to remain by the entrance. And soon, we're rejoined by Lieutenant Riley.

"Well, that went well," is the first thing she casually says, a satisfied look on her face. "How was it on your end, old man?"

Hanneman sighs at the moniker, but doesn't say anything about it. "All went well." He then arches an eyebrow. "What about the sorceress? Were you able to capture her?".

The lady Knight furrows her brow. "That's the strange part: she was nowhere to be found. No one got in or out before you attacked. She was supposed to be in there. Instead, all we could find was some guards and no one else."

Gasps are what escape the mouths of us students. Hanneman, however, seems unperturbed as he rubs his chin. "The ones we came across used some sort of self-warping spells. Maybe she decided to flee when she heard the fighting."

That can't be the case. What would have been the point of luring us here if whoever the sorceress is intended to flee? Then again, what else could have happened if no one saw her leave?

"Coward," Dimitri hisses from the side, a worryingly angry look in his eyes.

The lieutenant gives a half-hearted shrug. "If that's so, she must be far gone at this point," she sighs. "At least we managed to free the slaves. Speaking of, Professor," she glances behind her back. "There's something you need to see."

Something _Hanneman_ needs to see? What could that be?

"I do?" Hanneman asks, confusion evident on his face. "What is it?"

The Knight waves for him to follow. "I'd rather you see for yourself before I say for certain."

Without saying more, the mage follows her inside the barrack where the slaves were being held, leaving us to our own devices. Aside from Felix who just goes to do Felix things, the others decide to go help the other Knights with the freed slaves.

I, on the other hand, decide to go into the barrack as well. If that Slitherer fled the battle, the trap must be something she left behind. And whatever it is Hanneman must see, there's little doubt that it's-

"Oh, Professor Hanneman!" I hear a girl exclaim. "It's so good to see you again!"

That voice...it can't be.

Hanneman is a little further deep into the barrack, his back turned to me and his posture stiffened. The lieutenant is standing by his side, arms folded behind her back and a serious expression on her face. I can also glimpse a third silhouette just past the professor. And circling just a little, I manage to also glimpse the disheveled but vivid buns of red hair.

"M-Miss Monica?" Hanneman asks, confirming my suspicions.

Kronya.

* * *

[?]

I twirl the Sending Stone in my hand three times before it conjures the projection. "Report?" the Lord Agastya immediately demands.

"The plan worked to perfection, Lord Thales," I respond. "The Knights slaughtered those foolish slavers and the Hybrid is now with them." I let out a chuckle. "And not a moment too soon. Rufus dearest is not a problem, but justifying my absence for much longer to the rest of the court could have become complicated."

Thales lets out a snort. "You are not the only who has had to make sacrifices for this. Those slavers were an important source of test subjects. Replacing them is going to take time."

"Of course, of course," I reassure him. How utterly dull he can be sometimes. "Any news from Myson?"

Thales frowns at my question. "He and his team have found traces that powerful magic was used in Zanado some time ago. Their estimation is that it was around the time the rat first appeared. What kind of ritual was performed, though, they are still determining."

Interesting.

"But that is not your primary concern right now. It's what transpired in Gaspard not long ago."

I furrow my brow. Gaspard is where that simpleton Lonato and his foolish forces were supposed to clash with the Church's forces and leave that message about the Archbishop's assassination. What went wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. That happened.
> 
> Thank you to Softandhappy for betareading! Join us at the TreeHouse Discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> See you next time, where we'll see what went wrong for the Agarthans.


	27. Interlude 5-Mutiny In The Mist

[Panther]

This should have been easy. Fly over the field high enough for no one to be able to spot us, let the Knights close in on our target, wait for him to show up and then take him. Simple, quick and effective.

Too bad it didn't account for the thickness of this godsforsaken fog.

"Well, brother," Michai-_Cheetah_ says as he wraps his arm behind his head. "How's your great plan looking now?"

I rub the bridge of my nose. I hate when he's like this.

"Let's wait," I sigh. "This fog formed too suddenly to be natural. When whatever mage conjured it is dealt with, we will move."

"Will it be before or after grandpa is killed?" he quips, to my discomfort. "Know what? Let's just get down there and get it done."

"We would be two against two forces far more numerous," I counter. "And we would have them both on top of us before we even find him."

"And?" he replies, giving a pat to the new prototype gambersones Periander gave him. Why must I always be the voice of reason?

"One," I start. "Those have limited uses. You'd know that if you'd paid attention." He gives me an unimpressed look. "Two, the fog would hinder us as well. And three, a Hero's Relic is still out of our league."

He smiles at me smuggly. "And which of these three is the reason we must wait here, Myron?"

Gods almighty, give me strength.

"All of them," I answer, to which his smile doesn't waver. "And aren't we still supposed to go by our codenames?"

At that his smile falls as he lets out a groan. "Not you too. Madame Hardass was already a pain with all her 'no names' and 'not this or that'. Can't we just have a normal conversation without her around?"

"Trust me," I sigh. "If we don't keep it up, we'll lose the habit of doing it in front of her too. And neither of us wants to deal with her 'drilling it into our damn heads' another time."

My brother lets out another groan. While he does that, however, I notice that the...creature he's sitting on is all tensed up. His wings are flapping more stiffly, his tail is raised and rigid, his nostrils are widened and his jaw is clenched.

Whatever is up with the guy, it can't be good. What was his name again? "Agamemnon?"

The artificial wyvern turns his head to me, his body relaxing a little as he does that. Looks like I remembered right. "Something on your mind?"

Agamenon lets out a low hiss before turning back to the mist below us. However, following the direction his eyes are pointed at, I see what he's looking at: the red glow of the Relic, the only light that has been able to cut through the fog so far. Is something wrong with it for him?

"Are you afraid of it?"

Agamemnon lets out a low, threatening growl.

"I was just asking." I then turn to Michail. "Any idea what's wrong with him?"

He shrugs. "Beats me. This morning the big bruiser was his usual clumsy self. Nothing strange til now."

Agamemnon cranes his serpentine neck to look at Michail, fangs bared as he hisses at him.

"Don't look at me. You were the one who walked into a tree like an idiot."

A purple light forms within Agamenon's jaws and I can't help placing my head in the palm of my head. Not this again.

Thankfully, the other one - Menelaus, I think was his name - cuts both off with a guttural noise. The only one he's made ever since we flew up here. And looking down, I see why he chose to now.

Slowly, the fog beneath us is starting to dissipate and unravel just what is going on down there. The bodies of several civilians are spread all over the area, at least one farming tool used as an improvised weapon near the body of every last one of them. And despite the carnage, some of the improvised militia are still alive and fighting, some against Knights of Seiros, others against the fawns. And not far from that group, one very specific Knight of Seiros is surrounded by a group of other blue-steel-colored knights. Among which is our target.

I really don't see what the Master sees in the man. Whatever intelligence he might have, a dog willing to use those he swore to protect as meat shields to save his own skin does not deserve our protection. Although, I guess that is not for me to decide.

"Alright, we can proceed." I stand up and pick a Warp Glass from my belt. I then turn to my brother and fellow Night Cat. "Are you ready?"

"Are you serious?" He smirks as he mimics my movements. "I was just waiting for this."

I nod to that. "Menelaus and Agamemnon," I tell the two gigantic wyverns. "Keep the Knights distracted long enough for us to grab Lord Gaspard. And don't kill anyone. Too many innocents have already died pointlessly today."

The two give consenting growls, Agamemnon's slightly quieter than Menelaus'.

"Let's proceed." I shatter the small glass sphere and am immediately warped to the ground.

* * *

[Ashe]

"Got him!" Leonie bumps a fist as she exclaims that, while the mage she shot at falls helplessly with an arrow protruding from his chest.

Upon being attacked by Lonato's militia, it quickly became evident that the fog became too dense too quickly to be a natural occurrence. Lorenz and Lysithea theorized a Dark Mage might have conjured it and Professor Byleth decided locating him was our priority.

Unfortunately, that meant also going through all the civilians that decided to join Lonato in this mad rebellion. People that I've known for years and were always kind to me and my siblings. People that looked at me with betrayal in their eyes as I was forced to shoot arrows at them.

Why all of this, Lonato? Why attack the Church of Seiros? Why get our people involved into the fighting? Why allow them to die like this? Just...why?

"Well done," Professor Byleth comments while the fog dissipates. "Now we must rejoin Dame Catherine." He glances around for a moment. "Where was she headed the last time anyone saw-?"

Before the professor can conclude his question, a loud roar coming from above us cuts him off. A loud roar that I think I recognize. But it can't be.

Everyone turns in the direction where the roar came from and sees it for themselves: a gigantic wyvern-like Demonic Beast. Just like the one that attacked us Blue Lions last month.

The Demonic Beast flies over us, gusts of wind hitting us as it does so. After flying past us, it roars again and starts shooting gusts of its purple fire. Shock comes over the faces of all but Professor Byleth. And to my horror, another one flies over us in a perpendicular trajectory to the first one.

"What in the Goddess' name are those things?!" Lorenz shouts out.

"Demonic Beasts," Professor Byleth whispers. "But they're…" He hesitates, something I have never seen him do before. "Different from others."

I swallow a gulp. "I have seen one before." Everyone's attention turns to me. "The Night Cats set one on the Blue Lions last month."

"The 'Demonic Wyvern' controlled by those assassins? Is that who the 'Night Cats' are?" Professor Byleth asks me unfazed and I can only nod. The Professor looks to everyone else in our group as he says "Everyone stay sharp. If these wyverns are here, so must be those assassins." No one objects that order. "Now, where was Dame Catherine headed the last time anyone saw her?"

"I think that way, Teach," Claude answers as he points, to my horror, in the direction where the second wyvern was going.

Professor Byleth nods as he slightly narrows his eyes. "Let's go."

* * *

[Catherine]

It takes little effort to dispatch the two Gaspard Knights that I came across when the mist started dissipating. I have no idea how that happened, but at least our forces will have an easier time now that they can see. And Lonato won't be able to hide much longer.

"It's you."

Well, speak of the devil.

I turn in the direction where that growl came from. Lonato is sitting atop his mount, eyes narrowed at me and radiating rage. About half a dozen more of his knights stand by his side, weapons at the ready.

"Thunderstrike Cassandra!" he snarls as he points his lance at me. "It was your wretched zealotry that killed my son!"

I can't help but chuckle at hearing 'Thunderstrike Cassandra' after all this time. Another name for another life of another woman. "The only name I answer to is Catherine." I make sure to show Thunderbrand to the group of men. A couple of the Knights briefly shiver, but none is deterred. "Prepare to the taste the blade of one who serves the Goddess." Again, nothing. Just Lonato looking angrier. Too bad for them all.

Thunderbrand lights up as I tap into its power and point it at them. "Now you face a Knight of Sei-"

An animalistic roar from above us cuts me off before I can finish. And before I can even look at what made it, a pillar of purple fire lands between me and Lonato and his men, forcing me to jump back. The fire keeps coming down, until it forms a tall and extensive wall of fire. While that happens, however, I look up at where it's coming from.

Far up above, I see a large creature flapping bat-like wings and a tail. What I assume is the snout is letting out the purple fire. When it stops, however, the creature notices and locks eye-contact with me. At least, I assume those two red lights are its eyes.

Before I can do anything, the creature dives down and lands near me, forcing me to turn my back to the fire it created as I keep looking at it. And only now that I have it so close, do I manage to properly look at it. And I have to restrain myself from shaking with anger as I do so.

The thing is a giant wyvern, save from its flesh that is covered not by actual scales, but by a black goo. Just like a Demonic Beast. Or in this case, the Night Cats's Demonic Beasts. And if it is here, so are the bastards who paralyzed Shamir.

The Demonic Wyvern narrows its eyes at me as it shows its fangs with a threatening hiss.

I tighten my grip on Thunderbrand and aim it at the monster. First I must kill this thing, then I'll focus on-

"**You will do no such thing, daughter of Charon.**"

I'm taken aback by that. Who spoke? Where did it come from?

"**From me.**" The monster makes a low growl as that is said. "**I can hear you from this range. Your thoughts are as loud as they are simple.**"

This thing...can talk?

"**Only those who share blood with me can hear me.**" Purple fire starts conjuring in the monster's mouth. "**The same blood that is about to be spilled from you.**"

Bring it on, ugly.

* * *

[Byleth]

Despite what I was expecting from Ashe's warning, the Golden Deer manage to move across the battlefield with relative ease. As we make our way, we don't come across either of the Demonic Wyverns. The worst we stumble on are some purplish fires here and there, but nothing more. If anything, their presence makes our march easier, as we see members of Lonato's militia we would have normally had to fight running away in terror, ignoring us entirely.

Still, their presence here is no coincidence. And since the Church now knows who their masters are, they must be acting as a distraction. And the less we see of them, the more I worry the one they are truly here for is the one person that was part of the group they originally attacked: Ashe himself.

"_**I wonder why him, though,**_" Sothis interjects. "_**He doesn't have a Crest and he isn't the most politically influential of the Blue Lions. What else could interest these assassins?**_"

We will find out soon, I suppose.

Unfortunately, our march is stopped when we come across a tall wall of purple fire that spreads far to both sides.

"What is this?" Lorenz asks dumbfounded.

"It's the Fire those Wyverns breath," Ashe answers. "They did something similar to prevent our escape."

So whatever is on the other side, they want to keep us away from it. Good to know.

I tune out the students' further comments for the moment. Fire of a different color usually means magic. And when it comes to purple, _Dark _Magic.

"Lysithea," I call the short girl, effectively silencing my students. She looks at me with curiosity in her eyes. "This wall. Is there anything you can do about it?"

Lysithea furrows her brow but then turns to the fire and stretches out a hand to it. Her eyes narrow the longer she stays in that position.

"I believe I can make an opening, Professor," she finally says. "But I'll need to stay focused on it or it will close again."

I nod and then turn to Lorenz and Marianne. "You help Lysithea with that. The rest of us will-"

A roar from the back of our group cuts off what I was going to say. The same roar I heard when the Demonic Wyverns showed up. And when I hear a second one, much closer than the first, I realize we are about to get company.

"_**Huh, so the little one wasn't the one they were after.**_"

"Get to it," I tell the three mages of our group as I step forward, placing myself between the students and the coming creature. "Everyone else, get ready."

Claude, Ignatz and Ashe each swiftly nock an arrow. Leonie, Hilda and Raphael come by my side, their weapons at the ready.

It isn't long before the monster's silhouette appears right above us. It lands loudly and cranes its neck to stare down at us, its glowing eyes glaring with malice. It roars as it does so. I glimpse Ignatz shaking and Ashe shifting at the roar. No one else falters. But before I can give the order to attack, something catches me off-guard.

"**Where is Agamemnon?**" a voice snarl. From within my head. "**He should have distracted this bunch!**"

Was that you, Sothis?

"_**No,**_" she replies baffedly. "_**I was about to ask you the same.**_"

Just as the two of us have that exchange, the beast's stance tenses and it widens its eyes. It cranes its neck further to sniff in my general direction. And then it jerks right back.

"**Fell Star…**"

Right after I hear that, the Demonic Wyvern, hurriedly takes off and flies in the opposite direction to us.

"Well, will you look at that," I hear Claude whistle. "We scared it off."

...yes. _I_ scared it off. 'Fell Star'... what does that mean?

* * *

[Panther]

"What is he doing?" I ask aloud when I see Agamemnon land and engage the Charon heiress. He was just supposed to cut her off from Lonato and his guard. Why isn't he breaking off?

"Beats me," Cheetah responds nonchalantly. "Perhaps he woke on the wrong side of the bed and wanted a good old one-on-one?"

Why does he always give only unhelpful answers?

Still, at least Agamemnon's presence comes with one good thing: his peculiar appearance has caught the attention of the Kingdom lord and his retinue. Which works just fine for us.

I tighten the grip on my naginata and put on my mask before speaking again. "_Doesn't matter. You proceed with your part. I'll get Gaspard._"

"Aye, aye, Captain," he snickers.

I don't even acknowledge that with an answer as I just move out of our cover. Thankfully, I see he does stomp his foot as I do that. And when I'm halfway to Lonato's group, I hear the shouts of the seven men as the Bolganone explodes right in the middle of their group. The spell blasted them apart from each other, but as I see them still moving and trying to get up, I quickly realize it wasn't enough. Which is where I come in.

Moving swiftly, I manage to knock out two with a smack on the head before they can stand up. The third one manages to get to his feet, but a couple of well-placed hits with the blunt end of my naginata send him back down. The fourth tries to rush me, but I manage to parry his sword away, headbut him and take advantage of his daze to kick his legs from under him. A final stomp on his ribcage knocks him out.

"Who are you?" I hear Gaspard bark. Turning to him, I see him frowning at me, lance tight within his hands. His horse is not within sight, but his two remaining guards are by his side, weapons pointed at me and armors dirtied by mud.

I ignore his question and place my naginata in a diagonal position between me and the three men. "_Lord Lonato Gildas Gaspard. Your dealings with the Western Church are of interest to my superiors. Lay down your weapon and come with me._"

"And abandon my mission to punish that heretic sitting on the Archbishop's throne?" he seethes. "Never!"

"_You can come with me willingly, or I can take you by force,_" I warn the old man. "_I suggest you be reasonable._" Even though his actions today do not suggest he is reasonable.

"Enough!" he snarls and points at me. "Seize him!"

I stand perfectly still as the two guards rush at me. If they don't see me do anything, they will assume I'm just waiting for them and assume they just have to overpower me. And in fact, I _am_ prepared to take them on in case Cheetah miscalculates. But fortunately he doesn't, as another Bolganone is set off and blasts the two men away mid-rush.

"What-?" a taken aback Gaspard tries to say, but doesn't get the chance to. Before he can recover from the surprise, I activate the runes carved into the naginata and release the Thunder magic upon the disavowed lord. He screams in pain as the electricity courses through his body until he ultimately falls down as well. I approach him after that and kneel to feel his pulse. Thankfully, he's still alive.

"Stay away from him!"

Less thankfully, an arrow lands slightly to the left of where I am. I stand up and turn around to see who the archer is. To my surprise, it's his adopted kid, with another arrow nocked at me. The same kid that is supposed to be with the Blue Lions far away from here.

What is he doing here? And how did he get past the fire wall?

The answer quickly comes in the form of the Ashen Demon and most of the fawns joining him, weapons drawn. The only three missing are the albino kid, the bluenette girl and the purple-haired boy, who I see holding a hole open in the wall.

Dammit Agamemnon, this is exactly why you weren't supposed to engage that woman!

"One of these so-called 'Night Cats', I assume," the Ashen Demon says with a tone that is...impossibly neutral given the circumstances. "What is your name, assassin?"

It is not just the way he talks that weirds me out. His stance, his face...it's all too relaxed for someone in the middle of a battlefield. If it weren't for his focused eyes, I would assume it's not a man standing before me.

But I can't afford to show him that discomfort. If rumors are to be believed, this is exactly how he provokes fear in his adversaries. "_I am called Panther, mercenary. And this doesn't concern you._" I glance at the gray-haired boy, "_Nor does this have to do with the Outworlder._"

Strangely, all but the Ashen Demon look at the kid confusedly after I say that. He, on the other hand, seems to barely acknowledge it. "I don't care! Stay away from Lonato!"

I shake my head. His devotion to this hypocrite is commendable but misplaced. And I have no time for it.

"_Another one!_" I shout out at my brother.

"Scatter!'' The Ashen Demon orders the fawns astonishingly fast, almost as if he knew exactly what was going to happen. And as a result, the would-be students get out of the way of the Bolganone, but they remain distracted long enough for me to grab another Warp Glass. I grab Gaspard by his hair and then warp the both of us away.

* * *

[Catherine]

I leap back as the beast spits out another gust of its demonic fire. This is how it's been going so far between the two of us. I lunge at it, it flies out of Thunderbrand's range, I have to leap back to avoid its fire or am knocked back by a gust of wind from its wings and then in some cases I need to avoid its own lunge, hence and repeat.

This is one dodgy son of a bitch, I'll give it that. Even with my own Crest's power, it's still able to avoid me. Of course, if its claims to bear it as well are true, that's not its merit.

"**Do not mock me!**" the beast snarls in my head. Touchy on that subject, isn't it?

The beast responds with a threatening hiss. Despite its bluster, I can see it panting. It's tiring. Weakening. Good.

I rush at it again, Thunderbrand raised to slash. The beast takes off to avoid me, but I leap as soon as it does, aiming for the neck.

It goes poorly. Before I can even swing Thunderbrand, it headbuts me mid-leap and pushes me backward. I hiss in pain when my back connects to the ground. And before I can even try to stand back up, the Wyvern dives down. I barely grab its talon before it can stomp on me, but I find myself struggling to resist the force behind it.

"**Die!**" it growls in my head, its baleful eyes staring down maliciously at me.

Despite my efforts to resist it, the beast just keeps pushing down harder and harder. I find myself struggling against it more and more, but I refuse to give in! Not like this! I'm not letting these freaks get away with what they did to Shamir!

Far in the distance, I hear another roar like the ones from this beast. It hears it too and relents some force from its stomp as it turns to look in the distance. Were there two of them?

The beast lifts its paw from me and turns to look at me again. "**You live to fight another day, wielder of Thunderbrand,**" is all it says before flying off.

What was that about? What did that other roar mean?

Before I can ponder it further, the wall of flames dissipates in front of me. Where first there were Lonato and his guards, now there are the Golden Deer standing among the guards that are lying unconscious.

But Lonato is nowhere to be seen.

* * *

[?]

My brow furrows as the Lord Agastya finishes. "I see. So the traitors took the old fool. But what does he actually know about us?" How much could he actually tell them?

"_He only knows the Western Church is working with another party, which they no doubt already know._"

So he's useless to them. Good.

"_However, the Kingdom's nobility is unlikely to let this lay down,_" Thales continues. "_Make sure to keep them in line._"

I nod respectfully to him, "As you say, Lord Thales."

After he ends the transmission, I put the Sending Stone away and grab the satchel with the Warp Powder. I recompose my disguise as Cornelia Arnim and then use the powder to warp back to Fhirdiad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And chapter. The Night Cats show up once more and we learn more about Lion's Demonic Wyverns. I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter, but I hope you guys can still enjoy it.
> 
> Again, thanks to Softandhappy for betareading. You can join us on the TreeHouse Discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> Now, some slightly bad news: I think I'm going to take a break from Entrapped for a bit. I think I'm starting to feel a bit of a burnout with it. That doesn't mean I won't write at all though. I'll most definitely focus more on Shadows of Valentia fic I've kept as a side project until now. If you're interested, you can check 'A Merc Who Knew Too Much'.
> 
> See you when I see you, guys!


	28. Chapter 23-Back To Garreg Mach

After the slavers were dealt with, things were sorted out rather quickly: the Lieutenant, her group and a good chunk of our original escort would accompany the slaves to Rowe castle, where they'd petition the Count for shelter while they'd wait for the required supplies to accompany them to Garreg Mach. 'Too many mouths to keep fed', the Lieutenant said. And while that's true, good riddance to her. Not sure I'd have been able to stand a bigot all the way to the Monastery.

Of course, I traded the bigot for Kronya, the bitch that would have killed Jeralt. It was decided that she would stay with us after Hanneman explained the whole 'Monica von Ochs, missing Black Eagle student from last year' deal. And when questioned about what happened, Kronya claims to only remember waking up in the slavers' cell, with no memory of the past few months. A bullocks excuse, but a medical examination confirmed a past head trauma that could have caused the amnesia. Or rather, a convincing enough replica of a past head trauma. Seems the Slitherers set their little surprise up better than they did in the game.

God-fucking-dammit, if the plot wasn't screwed up before, it is now. And I can't even talk with Hanneman about this situation so long as we're on the road with _her_ around.

At least it's not all bad news: after the initial difficulties, Mercedes seems to have taken to my Karate lessons. Enough, in fact, that she's asked me if I can give her some more lessons.

"Alright, Mercedes." I fold my arms as she takes position in front of me. "Anoder time. Taikyoku Shodan."

Without uttering a word, Mercedes starts the sequence. Left, punch. Back, punch. Left, punch, punch, punch...

"Uhm..." she hesitates. "What was I supposed to do here?"

I let out a sigh. Here we go again. "Load de arm by your side over de opposite shoulder. Imagine you're trying to elbow someone's face." She follows my instructions, doing much better than when we started out. "Now, rotate on your back's side."

She does a 270 degree turn and makes the proper parry. "Good job," I say, nodding to her. "Continue."

Mercedes performs the rest adequately smoothly after that, the only bump in the process when she comes across the other 270 degree turn. Much like myself when I started out. A thought that manages to get a smile out of me. My first genuine smile in...too long.

After having her go through Taikyoku a couple more times, we move on to other exercises, like when to relax and tense the arm during a punch, how to maintain balance on one foot and a few more tricks.

"Remember," I tell Mercedes while I display a grip on her arm. "One hand around de wrist, de oder pressing on de elbow. Can you guess why de latter is important?"

Mercedes furrows her brow while she mulls my question over. "With the pressure on the elbow, bending the arm should be difficult, and with the arm in that condition, the one being held should be vulnerable."

I nod to her answer. "Good, dat is precisely why it's important." Guess her studies on human anatomy to become a healer are coming in handy right about now. "But also remember dat while it's important, it isn't de only ting you have to rely on. To unbalance your opponent, you must also have de element of surprise, act swiftly and keep a proper footing. Should any one of dese tings be absent, you have best not try dis grip. You must use your opponent's own weight against dem, and dat requires technique, rader dan raw strengt."

Mercedes nods to my words. "I see."

"Good." I let go of her arm. "Now, for your next-"

A whistle cuts me off mid-sentence. And as Mercedes and I turn in its direction, we are met by the sight of the one student I wanted to stay the hell away from.

"My, my," 'Monica' quips. "I hadn't realized you two were a thing."

...we what?

"Oh, it's nothing like that, Monica," Mercedes giggles. "Eugenio is just helping me with my Brawling skills."

"I see, I see," Monica whistles, right before she turns to me, a grin plastered on her face, accompanied by a hungry look in her eyes that sends shivers down my spine. "Say, Eugenio, I have heard you are from the Alliance. How come you are among the Blue Lions?"

You know very damn well, you murderous jester. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here.

"It's more complicated dan dat." I shrug. If I'm not careful, she'll figure out I know about her. And then she could kill everyone in this camp. "Originally, I was one of de workers at de Monastery. I joined de Blue Lions on a mission, I helped fight off a group of assassins dat ambushed us and de Archbishop decided to reward dat by letting me join."

No doubt Kronya will now try to continue her interrogation. Ask stuff like why I was with the Lions in the first place or when I even joined since I wasn't around when she was still a student. All simple stuff, all in preparation of trying to get me to lower my guard before trying to ask whatever she's really after. And I'm not sure how well I can take her questioning.

"Hmmm," she instead says. "I see. So you've joined with the others already having a head-start on you. That's rough."

Okay. Not what I was expecting. "Yeah. But I've managed to catch up. More or less."

"Well, lucky for you, I had almost finished my studies before my disappearance." Her smile widens. "Should you need anything - anything at all," she winks. "You know who to ask."

She then turns her back to us and heads back to camp, leaving me dumbfounded. What the hell just happened?

"Oh my," I hear Mercedes giggle. "It seems you've made an impression on her."

...fuck. Is Kronya _really_ trying to play that angle? God, she'll be beyond annoying in that case.

* * *

As it turns out, my hunch was right. Over the several days it takes us to return to Garreg Mach, whenever Kronya is near me, she takes the opportunity to try and hit on me. And with the puppy eyes, the sweet voice and the gently asked simple questions...honestly, she only lacks the over the top animations and then she'd be the stereotypical anime sweet girl.

At least her cover means she has to maintain a normal dress code. If a woman with her fashion sense tried to hit on me, it'd be downright awkward instead of just embarrassing.

The worst part, though? If I didn't know who she really is, there's a chance it might have actually worked. Her Monica disguise is actually kind of cute. Not sure it's the kind of cute girl I could see myself date with, but…

God, never thought a girl fawning over me would have made me wish I had two X chromosomes instead of one.

Thankfully, besides the mole lady, our return to Garreg Mach proceeds smoothly. And faster too, since thanks to the Knights of Seiros, Gaspard territory has quieted down somewhat by the time we pass through it. And when we do arrive at the Monastery, Hanneman dismisses the majority of us, saying he only needs Dimitri and Monica for the debriefing.

Works for me, means I don't have to see the two salamanders and I don't have to watch my back for Kronya for a while. And with that knowledge, I head to my room, relieve myself of the monk attire I've kept on throughout this trip, put on my Monastery "uniform" and lay down on my bed, fully intending to just rest for a bit.

At least, that's the original plan. One that lasts until someone comes knocking at my door.

"Who is it?" I groan out.

"It's me!" a female voice responds. One I've grown to know far too well.

I jump off my bed and rush to my door. And upon unlocking it, I am indeed met by the blonde Knight, a tense expression on her face. The blonde Knight I had yet to talk with about my real situation.

"Caterine! I-"

"Later," she cuts me off. "You need to come to the Archbishop's chamber. Something's come up."

"What? Why?" What could have happened? Don't tell me Alois or Shamir…

"The Night Cats happened." What?! "They attacked us in Gaspard."

* * *

Suffice it to say, after Catherine breaks the news to me, I put my boots back on and rush with her to Rhea's chambers. Something I had never done before and I thought I would never do after recent developments.

And upon entering, besides Rhea, Seteth, Hanneman and Dimitri, there's also a beaten-down looking Ashe and an ever stoic Byleth. Which triggers a bunch of alarms in my head. Alarms that are justified when Rhea and Seteth reveal Ashe let the Cats' name slip and I was brought up by one of their members during the attack, and now they had to come clean with Byleth. My panic, however, is quickly replaced by utter confusion when I'm brought up to speed on the rest.

"Wait, let me sum it up: two more Demonic Wyverns showed up, dey spoke to Caterine and dis Panter kidnapped Lonato?"

Byleth nods his head. "Indeed."

What the absolute fuck does this all mean? How could Demonic Beasts talk? And why did the Slitherers save Lonato? Besides the fact that's not what happened in the game, they had no reason to care about his well-being. And I had absolutely no dealing with him. And if this were some sort of convoluted scheme to get at me, why go through all the trouble they did to have Kronya infiltrate Garreg Mach?

Unable to come up with answers, the only thing I can think of is turning to the freckled boy. "What could de Nightcrawlers possibly want from Lonato?"

I realize that was a bad idea the moment Ashe starts panicking. "I-I don't know! None of this makes any sense! I...I…"

The kid stops his rambling when Byleth gently puts a hand on his shoulder. "Calm down, Ashe," he says, his voice incredibly less monotonous than it usually is. "No one here is accusing or demanding anything. We are simply trying to figure out what is truly happening. Deep breaths."

With an obedience that is surprising from a student that just followed him through one mission, Ashe does just as Byleth says, slowly inhaling and exhaling first one time, than two and finally three. After that procedure, the boy is noticeably less agitated.

Just as that happens, Rhea decides to say her piece, drawing my attention back to her. "Why the Night Cats decided to kidnap Lonato was something we hoped _you_ could answer."

Aw, shit. What do I say aside from 'actually, they were the ones that inspired his rebellion and were supposed to let him die?'

"I don't have de slightest clue." Which _is_ the truth. "Is Lord Lonato special somehow? Was he known to have...I don't know, abnormalities of some kind?"

Rhea shakes her head. "As the Lord Gaspard, his relevance in the Kingdom's political landscape was minimal. He was only more relevant than other similar lords due to his proximity to the border with the Empire. And as far as anyone knows, he was a normal man with perfect health, save for the ailments of his age."

So, nothing on that front either. Wonderful...

"The only noteworthy fact about him, aside from this rebellion, was his son Christophe," Seteth chimes in. "Years ago, it was discovered he had been involved in the Tragedy of Duscur."

Ah, right. The cause of Lonato's hatred for the Church and the cover that was used to hide he had actually been conspiring with the Western Church against Rhea. Still no idea what was the point in that. Although…

I give a quick glance to Dimitri. The Boy Scout has pursed his lips at the mention of the Tragedy, his fists have clenched and his gaze is no longer focused on the two greenheads. Maybe if I play my cards right…

I furrow my brow at Rhea before speaking again. "You believe dere could be a connection between de Tragedy and de Night Cats?"

Just as I expected, Dimitri's eyes widen and his posture tenses at my words. And he turns to look at me.

"It is possible," Seteth concedes. "But prior investigations into the Tragedy have never suggested there was another party involved. Only other lords of the Kingdom."

"What could be done to actually link de two?" On the side, Dimitri has pursed his lips even more as his gaze keeps going from me to Rhea and Seteth. Come on, Boy Scout, don't let me down.

"All the Kingdom nobles that were found guilty paid their sins with their life," Rhea intervenes and I have to restrain myself from shaking my head. Add this to the cons of the death penalty: the dead can't talk. "However, we were never sure all the conspirators were exposed. Perhaps if more of them could be found-"

"And what if there were an eye-witness to their crimes?" Dimitri intervenes, stirring surprised expressions from everyone. Well, everyone except me and Byleth. Although the latter does turn to look at him.

Rhea furrows her brow before speaking again. "Is there something you wish to tell us, Your Highness?"

Dimitri lets out a shaky breath. It takes him a moment before he can continue. "As some here may already know, I was there when the massacre happened. I was the only one who survived that day. What none of you know is who I saw commit it."

The next however-long-passes is spent by Dimitri recounting to us all the events that happened from Duscur onward. How he witnessed the Slitherers cut down his father and his Knights one by one. How when he was rescued, he told the lords of the Kingdom who he saw commit that butchery. And how those lords dismissed his claims of pale demons as a child's attempts to process what he saw.

Catherine's, Hanneman's and Ashe's mouths fall agape as he goes on. Rhea and Seteth manage to maintain some composure, but the latter can not entirely hide the fact that he is rattled. Even Byleth seems to widen his eyes at this recollection.

"I see," is all Rhea can say by the end, her face morphing in a compassionate look. "You have my thanks for sharing this information, Prince Dimitri. And my condolences. It is never easy to witness such an event and have no one to talk about it."

I internally sigh. If only _she_ had been able to heal right from it.

"What," Dimitri hesitantly asks. "What will happen now?"

As soon as that is asked, Rhea's face turns back to normal. "For now, the Church will investigate more thoroughly into those that conspired against your family. We will find them. They will lead us to the Nightcrawlers. And they will all be made to answer to the Goddess for their crimes."

Dimitri's face hardens as he nods to Rhea.

After that exchange, before dismissing us all, Rhea gives Byleth some final instructions to just tell the students this is a Church private matter they don't need to concern themselves with further. Byleth being Byleth, is unable to show how he feels about it and simply answers in the affirmative.

After leaving Rhea's room, Dimitri excuses himself and leaves us, with Ashe doing much the same soon after. Hanneman then asks Byleth to have a talk with him in private, which the former mercenary agrees to.

Leaving me with Catherine.

"This may be an odd question," she starts, rubbing the back of her head. "But this sudden admission from Dimitri...you don't happen to have played a part in it?"

I nod. "I did. What gave it away?"

Catherine crosses her arms. "It was just a feeling I got with how you two were glancing at each other in there."

Oh. Well, then…

"When I first revealed de existence of de Night Cats - and again when I was introduced to de Blue Lions - I noticed dere seemed to be someting bodering Dimitri and his retainer. When I confronted dem about it, dey admitted to have recognized de Nightcrawlers from my description. Dimitri didn't want to tell it because he believed he would be dismissed yet again."

Catherine purses her lips but nods nonetheless. "Well, I'm glad he was able to open up with you. And that you were able to convince him to talk. Not only because it will make finding the Cats much easier, but also for his own good."

I know that better than you could ever imagine Catherine. Although the road to patching the Boy Scout up is still going to be long.

* * *

That night, I do my usual routine at the dining hall. I get in line, wait for my turn, and then get served by Rebecca. Although, tonight, Rebecca has more to say than usual.

"So," she starts, giving me an inquisitive look, "Dame Catherine is back now. How are you going to handle the thing?"

I look at her puzzled, "What ting?"

"You know," she quirks an eyebrow, "Whatever happened for you and Alois to not hang around each other anymore? The thing that managed to make both you and the big guy that is cheerfulness incarnate miserable? Or is she going to get the same silent treatment I've been getting from Alois?"

Oh not this…

"If Caterine wants to hear it from me, I'll worry about dat."

"That's it?" an irritated note enters her voice as she crosses her arms. "Weeks of you two avoiding each other like moody kids, Dame Shamir secluding herself away from the rest of the Monastery in the meantime, you avoiding even your newfound classmates during the evenings, and that's all I'm getting?"

I can only sigh at that. "It's a matter between me and Alois."

"More like a problem," she replies. "And I'd gathered that much. But you know what two grown-up men like you do with problems like this? They talk about them. They don't do all this awkward dancing around!"

I can't help but shake my head. "Dis is bigger dan you tink."

"Unless you've declared to Alois you're in love with him, I don't see how it's too big to talk about."

Hey! "It's not _dat_."

"Good. Then you know what to do."

I hold back a groan. Had Alois just walked out on me, had I just told him all he believed in was a lie, even had I just kept hidden an oncoming war, then _maybe _talking could have been an option. But knowing about Jeralt's fate and keeping it hidden from him was one betrayal too far.

"Some tings can not be fixed by words," I tell Rebecca as I pick up my tray. "Or, in cases like dis one, at all."

She makes no effort to hide her irritation in her next words, further accentuated by the grimace she makes. "Then can I at least know what the absolute hell this is about?"

For your sake, it's best if you don't. And especially not in front of the crowd waiting behind me.

"As I said, it's between Alois and me," I turn around, doing my best to ignore her glare. "Good evening."

After that...unfortunate exchange, I head to the tables and search for a free isolated spot. When I find it, I briefly glance in Rebecca's direction and see she's serving dishes more angrily than before. Great, one more bridge burned for me. Only got the one with a thunder motif left.

And speaking of her, Catherine arrives in the dining hall not long after I sit down. I watch her as she waits for her turn to be served. And unsurprisingly, she stops by the counter even after being served, as Rebecca gives her a spiel of some kind.

Well, looks like I'll have to decide now. Tell her the whole thing with the very likely possibility she'll snitch it all to Rhea, or just give her an abridged version?

"Excuse me." I turn at the new voice, and am met by the sight of Dedue. Alone. With no tray of his own. "Could I have a moment?"

I glance back at the counter again. As it turns out, Catherine was heading in my direction, but as she notices me look at her, she gives me a thumbs up and walks in another direction.

Another day.

"Sure," I tell Dedue as I gesture for him to take the seat in front of me. "I'm surprised to see you witout Dimitri. How is he?"

"He wished for some time by himself tonight," the big guy answers impassively. "He told me what occurred with the Archbishop. What he revealed to her." He slightly furrows his brow. "And also that some things you were asking were what spurred him into talking."

Yes, and? "When Lonato's son was brought up, I tought it would be proof of de Nightcrawlers involvement with Duscur. And I wanted Dimitri to reveal what he knew on his own. Not because I forced him to."

A slight nod of his head is all the acknowledgement I receive for my words.

"Are they actually called Nightcrawlers, though?" I freeze at his question. What the hell does that mean? "You were about to call them something else that night."

Ah, crap. He noticed it. How do I justify that?

Although, he's not a native of Fódlan. He's less inclined to believe what the Church says. And maybe if I don't share the whole thing...

I glance left and right to make sure no one's paying attention to the two of us. I then lean forward to Dedue. He furrows his brow, but leans as well.

"Dere are some tings about dem dat I'm keeping to myself at de moment," I whisper to him. "I know some tings de Church would have me dead for if dey knew. I can't take dat risk."

"I see." Dedue leans back after saying that. He then folds his arms and just stares at me, his face unreadable.

"Anyting else you want to ask?" I ask, hoping to discern his thoughts that way.

"His Highness trusts you," Dedue replies matter of factly. "You are the only one besides me who he has been able to confide in. But between what I've seen and what you have just told me, I can not say whether you have his best interests at heart or you are just pushing his buttons into a possible goal of yours."

His statement takes me aback. "What makes you say dat?"

"That you are purposefully harboring secrets would suggest the latter. That you were willing to share that with me would suggest the former. If it's true." I find myself unable to counter that logic. "For now, know that if I should feel you are becoming a threat to His Highness, I will do my duty."

"Duly noted," I gulp. This was not how I'd hoped this would go.

"Good." Dedue stands up, gives me a polite nod of his head and then walks away.

Fantastic. The one Blue Lion who has his shit together, and I've fucked it up with him. Now's to hoping I don't do the same with his liege.

* * *

The day after, me and the other Lions gather in the classroom with Hanneman, with Dimitri stating he has some new information to share. Information I believe I know what it is.

However, to everyone's confusion, Ashe doesn't show up in time. Or at all, for that matter.

After getting confirmation from Dimitri what he wants to say is what I think, I volunteer to go looking for the boy. The first place I think to go to is his room. And the answer I get after knocking on the door means I got it right on the first try.

"Yes?" Ashe's surprised voice comes from inside.

"It's me," I answer. "Everyone was worried about you, boy. Would you mind coming out?"

"Oh! Ah...s-sorry, Mister Eugenio. I'm coming."

When the door opens up, I immediately notice Ashe doesn't look that well. His hair...well, it always was somewhat disheveled, but not this much. His eyes are also reddened and he's making a point of keeping his head low.

"Are you okay?" a dumb question, but I feel like it's best to start with that.

"I…" he hesitates. "No, I'm not. I just...I keep thinking about Lonato. Why did he do what he did? Why did he drag the people into this madness? And what do the Nightcrawlers want from him? He never had anything to do with Duscur!"

Ah, the million dollar question that I wish I could answer.

"I know this isn't helpful," I tell the boy, "But answering dat last one is exactly what everyone wants to do right now. As for de oder questions...do you recall what Lonato was like? In de time after Cristophe was taken from you?"

My question actually makes Ashe look at me, his brow now furrowed at me. "Why are you asking?"

"I want to try and answer your questions. But I need you to answer me first."

Ashe keeps looking at me oddly, his green eyes staring into my own with plain confusion. I half-expect him not to answer, until the moment he lowers his eyes.

"In these last four years, he was trying to be his usual self," he says sadly. "But it was clear to see Cristophe's death had an effect on me. Whenever he thought we weren't looking, he looked sadder. And he felt more reserved when he was with us."

I give a small nod to his words. "He was trying to keep up a brave front for your sakes. But in doing so, he kept his pain to himself and dus wallowed in his misery. Lost sight of what he had left. Dat misery turned into despair. And despair turned into anger at dose who had taken Cristophe from him. Anger dat led to dis."

I realize I should have said something else when Ashe lowers his head again. "I should have-"

"No," I cut him off, his head raising back to look at me. "Don't go down dat road. Because if we go down 'should haves' we should also ask what _he_ should have done. Like wheder keeping his pain to himself was de right idea or not." I cross my arms and arch an eyebrow. "What you must do now is ask yourself a simple question: will you follow into Lonato's mistake or do someting about _your_ pain?"

Ashe purses his lips before speaking again. "The other day, you told me something similar. To talk with someone about how I'm feeling. I've found myself in a welcoming environment with the Golden Deers. And Professor Byleth...he seemed willing to help. I'm tempted to join them, but I don't know whether I should."

Oh? "Any specific reason why you shouldn't?"

"Whatever happens to Lonato next, I will be the next Lord Gaspard. To complete my year as a member of the Golden Deer…"

Ugh, politics.

"De ultimate choice is yours to make. But before dat, I want you to tink about an old saying." Now, what were the exact words in the movie? "Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. But today is a gift. Dat is why it is called 'present'."

Ashe just looks at me confusedly. Looks like those words coming out of my mouth instead of a talking turtle's aren't nearly as effective.

"Just keep it in mind," I sigh before waving for him to follow. "Come on. De others are waiting for us."

* * *

Three things happened after Ashe and I returned to the classroom. First, we realized Dimitri had revealed the Agarthans' involvement in the Tragedy to the others by the disconcerted faces everyone was making.

Then, Hanneman announced that despite Lonato's kidnapping, the Knights still recovered the intel about the 'assassination attempt' on Rhea from his saddle. And - to my surprise - all three Houses would be tasked with watching out for her during the Rite of Rebirth, although he and the other professors would still need to go over the specific details.

And lastly, after dismissing us, Hanneman briefly tells me to meet him in his study after the day's lessons.

I do just that, but before we can talk, Hanneman goes to his office's door, makes sure it's closed and casts some kind of spell on it.

"There," he says. "This will make sure no one hears anything we say."

"...why?" is all I can say, although I realize it's a dumb question almost right away.

Hanneman, however, answers anyway. "Because if even only half of what you said about this Kronya is true, we can not be cautious enough."

Yeah, he's right. Disguised as a student, Kronya has access almost everywhere to the Monastery. And the few places she doesn't, are either accessible to Solon or only by Rhea and Seteth.

"Speaking of," Hanneman continues as he sits back at his desk. "Kronya is here. Considerably ahead of schedule than she should have. And even if she had not shown any kind of interest in you, I think it is obvious why this happened."

"True," is all I can reply. "Is dere anyting dat can be done about her?"

Hanneman shakes his head, "I do not know how her people could make such a convincing false head trauma, but so long as she keeps claiming not to remember anything with that kind of evidence, I can not question the validity of her claims without first providing my own counter-evidence. Not without revealing what you know."

Brilliant. "So it's all up to me," I sigh. "I'm not sure I can do dis. I've slipped more dan once before. I may do so again."

The elder mage gives me a sympathetic look. "I'm sure you will be able to find a way. The only ones that have learned the full truth are people you chose to trust it with."

A choice I made because I could not muster the will to lie any longer. That isn't a testament to how well I hold it together under pressure.

"If I may offer some advice, though, try to see if you can play along with her charade." I give him a quizzical look. He doesn't appear affected by it as he continues. "If her masters decided to go with this approach, it must mean they want you alive. Which means she can not kill you. If you play along, she will grow more at ease around you. And if she grows more at ease, her violent tendencies are more likely to slip through. And if that happens, we will at least be able to prove she's dangerous."

I...don't entirely agree with this logic. True, if the Slitherers went through all the trouble of getting her into Garreg Mach, it must mean they don't want me dead right now. But as the Night Cats proved, me being alive is not mandatory. And Kronya will not hesitate to slit my throat if she perceives me as a threat.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

The professor purses his lips. "A good idea, no. The _only_ idea I have, yes. Although, if you feel getting closer to her is too dangerous, I understand. And I won't force you to go through with it."

So our plans on that front are either toying with a dangerously unstable person or doing nothing and praying for the best. Great.

"On another of the several matters we need to discuss," Hanneman continues, his brow furrowing in the process. "Prince Dimitri and his declarations. I assume it was your doing?"

I nod. "When I gave de 'Nightcrawlers' spiel, I saw someting was up wit him. When I confronted him, he confirmed he recognized it was de Agartans who killed his fader. I tried to tell him making sure de world knows Duscur is innocent and who de real culprits are was how he'd bring de dead peace. And you saw how it went."

Hanneman looks at me impassively as I talk, merely giving some nods here and there. "I see. So now at least the burden of the truth has been taken off his chest. However, you do realize it will take more than this to give him some measure of peace?"

"I do," I confirm. "And I'm working on it."

Hanneman just nods to that. "As for what he revealed...the Agarthans' involvement is a tremendous step toward uncovering the truth. But I suspect the Church will want more solid evidence than Prince Dimitri's traumatic memories from four years ago and your claims of an organization of pale people. Something more like one of the conspiring nobles admitting their existence."

Now it's my turn to purse lips. "I can't help much wit dat. De only living conspirator Azure Moon mentioned was Viscount Kleiman. And even if I could point to more solid evidence besides some random guy just saying it in de open, I doubt anyone besides Cornelia would know of de Agartans."

"That," he suddenly chimes in, pointing at me. "is exactly the point I'm going to make to the Archbishop in the next few days."

First I blink at his declaration. Then, I check his face to make sure he's serious. Then I start wondering if he's inhaled some kind of drug. Then I ask my question aloud. "You _what_?"

He remains unfazed. "Allow me to explain: this was a conspiracy of nobles. Not an angry mob trying to depose a leader they didn't like. They _did_ have a plan for afterward. A plan that had to involve putting someone else on the throne. Regardless of whether or not he'd survive the attack, Prince Dimitri was too young to take the throne. That left only King Lambert's brother Rufus. A brother who would have benefitted from the reforms the King was attempting to push to make Crests less important in our society - the very same reforms that lead to this conspiracy. It was known he would not be in Duscur, and yet the conspirators let him live." He arches an eyebrow. "So what if there was no need to assassinate him, when one of the conspirators could manipulate him? Perhaps one of the royal advisors? Like Cornelia?"

"Dat is...a really well tought-out idea." And I mean it. It relies on a lot of 'what ifs', but Rhea should see the merit in it. There's one problem with it, though. "But how are you going to point de finger at Cornelia specifically? I don't remember her having a Crest eider."

Right as I say that, Hanneman's face falls. "That is the part I still have to think about. There have been some rumors in the last couple of years she and Regent Rufus have become...intimate," eww. "But as you said, she's a Crestless person that would have benefitted from King Lambert's reforms. And there are other advisors who do bear Crests. If I can't think of anything, I will at least point to the court in general."

Then here's to hoping the hag doesn't find a way to lay all of the blame on someone else in that case. We'll have one shot at this and I can't see any other way we're going to expose the Slitherers without me coming out.

"This, of course would expose the Agarthans' influence in the Kingdom." Hanneman adds. "But the Empire is another matter."

Oh? "You have ideas on how to deal wit dat?"

"Unfortunately, nothing at the moment," he sighs. "But I will think of something, rest assured."

You are going to need some serious luck, Hanneman. Short of Edelgard having a change of heart, there is far too little evidence to prove it without my claims.

"I'm any case, I believe it's about time I give you some updates on my research into the artificial Crests." Oh, right. Been a while since I heard news on that. "I managed to have a sample of Lady Edelgard's blood. Or at least, what I thought would be her blood, as my tests showed she was a natural born Crest-bearer, with only the one she was born with."

Of course she'd find a way to hide her artificial one.

"Also, one question that came to my mind." He lowers his head and stares me right into the eyes. "You were vague on this subject, but is _she_ the Flame Emperor?"

I nod. No point keeping that hidden now. "Apologies about dat. I was just trying to keep you and Alois from doing someting-" I cut myself off mid-sentence as a realization hits me. "Merda! Alois knows about Kronya!"

"That he does," Hanneman confirms with a nod. "But worry not. I've already talked with him about it. He has agreed to hold his hand for the time being."

Ah, good. That's…good.

"Aside from Lady Edelgard, I have also some news in regards to Professor Byleth's and Captain Jeralt's."

Wait, what? "When did you start looking into Jeralt's Crest?"

"Not long before our departure for Myrddin, he came to me and asked to search his own blood for a Major Crest of Seiros using the same experiment I did with the rest of you."

My eyes almost jump out of my head at that information.

"Due to the…revelations of last month, I have not been able to work properly on that. But yesterday, I was able to tell Professor Byleth the results: yellow. His Crest is artificial. And Professor Byleth confirmed that's the case and added that both of their Crests must come from the same source: artifacts in possession of Lady Rhea."

It takes a bit for all this new information to sink in for me. "Dere's at least half a dozen tings dat don't match up wit how events play out in de story." Jeralt doesn't come out about his Crest with anyone. Nor does Byleth learn he's the same son that supposedly died here until later. Nor-

"I imagined so," Hanneman cuts off my train of thought. "But circumstances change. And so does how people react to them."

I replay that word in my head. _Change_. The thing I've been afraid of this whole time.

"But perhaps this one is for the best, as this way Professor Byleth revealed to me something he chose to keep from Lady Rhea: he was able to 'speak' with the other Demonic Wyvern that attacked his class."

I wince. "How?"

"I believe it has to do with the Crest of Flames' power, as the creature was able to identify him as 'Fell Star'."

…oh, no. "Wait, so…dey already know?"

"That assumes the Night Cats have the means to _directly_ talk with the Wyvern's," Hanneman answers matter-of-factly. "But even if that is the case, I do not think Kronya, Solon and all the others will learn of this right now. Or at all, if we can keep the Sword of the Creator out of Professor Byleth's hands."

I furrow my brow. "What do you mean dey don't know?"

"Think about it: Lord Lonato was meant to be only a pawn to be sacrificed. Why would the Night Cats go against their fellows' plans?"

I mull his question over. True, Lonato served no further purpose to the Slitherers. So why would the Night Cats save him? Perhaps it's some kind of power play between rivaling forces? But if so, why did it not come up in the game?

Wait. The Night Cats was a faction that also wasn't present in the game. And never would have been discovered if they hadn't come out in the open for me.

My eyes widen as an idea strikes me. "You believe we're dealing wit a rogue element?"

"Possibly."

Fuck me sideways, I ended up getting mixed up into this whole thing because of a bunch of renegades the game never never talked about?!

"But as you said, we first need to have answers from the Night Cats. Now more than ever."

I nod. That much, we can agree on.

* * *

[Aelfric]

The abandoned chapel. A place that was once the second to final step of the faithful who made the pilgrimage to Garreg Mach. A place to rest and pray to the Goddess just before reaching the Monastery. It is such a shame that with the decline of pilgrimages, this chapel has slowly been abandoned and now it is little more than a ruin.

But at least nowadays it's a perfect place to have meetings in private. Close enough to Garreg Mach that one does not need to stray too far, but secluded enough that there is no chance of unwanted earsdropers. The only inconcìvenience is having to hold a fireball to see in the middle of the night, but such is the price to pay for privacy.

I apparently arrive first and, as I wait, I look around. I wonder if she'll actually manage to slip past the Knights guarding the surrounding area. I managed to because of my position, but-

I turn to the chapel the moment I hear glass breaking from within it. A sound I've grown to recognize. And sure enough, it isn't long before Atalanta walks out of it, her face set on her usual scowl.

"I am here, Wolf," is the first thing she says. "Status update?"

It takes me a moment to remember that's the codename we agreed on. I'm still not used to it. And I'm not even sure why it's needed if we are in private. "I've talked with the last groups, and Yuri's preparations are almost ready. The moment I give the order, our plan can begin. What on your end?"

She crosses her arms. "We have the means to procure the blood of Timotheos and Noa on our own. One of my Night Cats is looking into a lead to get the blood of Chevalier, but it will be a one-time thing. And it will be a month before he can retrieve it." She arches an eyebrow. "Can you keep everyone in line until then?"

"I can," I confirm. "In fact, that works perfectly. The Monastery right now is on high alert."

Her eyes narrow. "Why is that?"

"After you took Lonato, the Knights retrieved a scroll from his saddle. One with informations on an assassination attempt on Rhea on the day of the Rite of Rebirth."

Atalanta purses her lips. "How oddly convenient. And unlike my compatriots' style." I am about to say more, but she beats me to it. "Keep an ear out for this. I'll tell the others. Depending on what's decided, we may need to intervene."

That takes me aback, "Intervene? How do you mean?"

"We will see," she waves off, ending the conversation. "Before I go, though, there is another matter I need to ask you some questions about."

"Of course," I reply. "What else do you need to know?"

"It's about the friend you were seeking to revive. Sitri."

I freeze in place at hearing the name. "S-Sitri?" I ask, stupified. "Why would you…?"

"While my Night Cats were extracting Lonato in Gaspard, they found some concerning information about her son."

I furrow my brow. "What kind of information?"

"We believe he bears the Fire Emblem."

The Fire Emblem? That is an ancient name for…

"No," I mutter, "No, that can't be. Nemesis died heirless."

Atalanta nods. "Exactly. Which is why we need you to answer these questions."

"...what do you wish to know?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap for this chapter. Let me know what you think of it.
> 
> Once more, thank you to Softandhappy for betareading. You can join us on the TreeHouse Discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> See you all next time!


	29. Chapter 24-The Lessons Go On

Whenever a teacher asked me to meet him somewhere at a given hour, one thing I always made sure to do, be it during elementary, middle or high school, was arriving in advance. Being there and having to wait always made me nervous, but not as much as worrying about being late.

Today, as I go to the training ground, where Byleth asked me to meet him, is no different.

I'm still not sure what it is he wants to see me about, but I doubt it actually has to do with his lessons. All things considered, I'm keeping up with the others. Maybe it has to do with Dimitri? If both Catherine and Hanneman noticed my glances the other day, it would make sense he also did.

As I enter, it quickly turns out I don't have to worry about having to wait, as Byleth is already there, examining some sort of dark cloth held in his hands.

"You've arrived," he says as I approach him, his head not turning to look at me immediately. "Put them on."

He tosses me the cloth he was holding and I barely catch it in time. As it turns out, it's a pair of gloves. Dark gloves with white lines going from the tips of the fingers to a white circle drawn on the back. What…?

"I said 'put them on'."

Without missing another beat, I do as Byleth says. The fabric of these gloves is pretty resistant, but still flexible enough that I can easily move my hand. But there is something about it that feels...different from other gloves. I can't say what it is.

"They seem to fit your hands," Byleth comments, crossing his arms as he does so. "Good. All the work to put them together would have gone to waste otherwise."

Uh…"Did _you _sew dese?"

"No. Another member from Father's company did. I merely asked her to."

Oookay, so...what's this whole thing for? "If you requested dem, why are you giving dem to me?"

"Those are not normal gloves," he replies, surprising me. "I once mentioned the War Mages of Morfis. Do you remember?"

I think back to all our previous meetings. It isn't a long list of times, fortunately. Most of our conversations have usually been short and hardly noteworthy. The most significant I can think of is the one in the infirmary after my fight with Lysithea. And that was also when…

"You first mentioned dem when we talked about dat tunder punch ting I did."

"Correct," Byleth confirms with a nod. "The War Mages are a special branch of Morfis' armed forces. Martial artists who incorporate spells into their fighting techniques. One of their distinctive attacks are punches charged with magical energy. Much like the one you performed that day."

My jaw hangs open at that information.

"The downside to that is that the skin of the hand is singed away over time. That is why the War Mages' equipment includes special gloves with engravings through which magic can be channeled, rather than through their flesh." His eyes shift to look at my hands. "Special gloves like these ones."

I look down to my gloved hands. So, theoretically with these on, I could do more of that Thunder punch stuff? That's...neat, I guess? "How do dey work?"

"Do you remember how you triggered that first one?"

I try to think back to my fight with Lysithea. I do recall charging Thunder. But what I did next is blurrier. "I only recall conjuring de spell. Noting after dat."

"I see," is what he replies with. He then raises a hand between our gazes and clenches it into a fist. "From what I can tell you, after conjuring the spell, instead of releasing it against your opponent, you have to hold it within your hand." He lowers it before continuing. "The different branches of magic are used in specific ways by the War Mages. The ones you are more accustomed to - Thunder and Wind - are used to electrocute the opponent or outright sever body parts from them respectively."

Sever-? Jesus Christ!

"If you wish, I can instruct you in their ways."

I can't help but raise an eyebrow at his offer. "How do you know so much about dem to be able to teach deir style?"

"Years ago, our band travelled to Morfis for a job," Byleth simply answers. "We fought side by side with a group of War Mages to deal with pirates threatening the locals' shores. Along the way, I was able to analyze their technique."

"...really? Just like dat?"

"Yes."

I wish he weren't an unreadable cardboard cutout. I'd have an easier time understanding if he's serious. I hope I'll at least get a clearer answer for my next question.

"Why are you willing to teach me dis?" I hope it's not an attempt to coerce me into joining the Golden Deer. I have too much going on with the Blue Lions to just leave them.

"Because I knew even before what the Archbishop revealed that your attackers were no mere assassins," he immediately replies, taking me by surprise. "I did not know they were after you specifically, but that merely means it is even more imperative for you to hone your skills."

I can only gulp at that spiel.

"If you are not interested in me teaching you, you can still keep the gloves," he continues. "But I am not exaggerating when I say I'm the only one in all of Fódlan who can teach you. And you will have an easier time with guidance rather than on your own."

Hmmm. With how xenophobic Fódlan is, I can believe that last part. However, it's hard to believe he can actually teach me if all the exposure he's had is watching War Mages in action for a few days. Plus, working side by side with him would increase the risk of him finding out the truth.

"What exactly would dis training entail?" I ask. Better figure out if this is worth the risk.

"You already knew martial arts. You have learned magic. But you do not know how to mix those two. And that requires honing your ingenuity in combat. Only measuring yourself against an opponent far above your skill can do that."

...so this isn't training but just an excuse to spar with me?

"Any mage can learn how to deal enchanted punches," Byleth continues, as if reading my thoughts. "But there's more to incorporating them than that. They are to be used sparingly, when the moment is right. Otherwise you'll wear yourself down twice as quickly."

Because I'll be consuming both my stamina and my durability. Huh, wasn't thinking of it like that. Maybe I gave him too little credit on this. Is it enough to risk exposing myself, though?

"When can we have a first lesson so I can decide?" I ultimately ask. Better if I test the waters.

To my surprise, the walking doll responds by spreading his legs and raising his fists defensively. "Right now."

I let out an internal sigh. Walked right into that one, didn't I?

Without uttering another word, I follow Byleth's example and take my own stance. Better if we get this out of the way right now.

"Remember," Byleth adds. "When you're conjuring the spells, clench your fists around them instead of setting them loose. Thunder magic will release as soon as your hand makes contact with something, but Wind magic will be released if you open it. The gloves will protect your flesh."

Wait, that's all there is to making the enchanted fists?

"Attack."

Looks like it is all I'm getting out of him. Yey.

Following his instruction, I conjure a Thunder in my right hand and then clench it into a fist. Immediately, I feel some kind of warm feeling on the back of my hand and across my fingers and I notice the white lines and circle slightly glowing. Is that normal?

Deciding to ignore it for the time being, I aim my fist at his left arm. Hopefully the damage will be limited if this gets out of control.

However, before the two can connect, Byleth slaps my wrist away with the other hand, making me miss my intended target entirely and the electricity to be shot away.

"You understood how to do it," is all he has to say after. "That is good. But I also said you have to wait for the right moment."

Off to a good start, I see.

After that embarrassing first bout, we have a few more afterward, none of which are particularly brilliant, all ending with Byleth using a grab I can't break free from. During the first two I forget to rely on magic and use only my karate moves. During the third, I manage to make some distance between Byleth and me and try to attack with an old-fashioned Wind. During the fourth, I think I find an opening for a thunder punch, but I am too slow with it and Byleth manages to quickly evade me.

By the end, I am a huffing mess with sore joints while Byleth is hardly fazed by our bouts.

"Not bad," is what he comments. "For a beginner to this you have done well."

If you say so.

"So, now that you have been able to try this out, what do you say to more of these lessons?"

I internally sigh. Looks like it's the moment of truth.

Well, these skills _could_ be useful, and he has just proven that without training I'm easy to outmatch. And there is no doubt the Cats are as skilled as him. So training with him _would_ be beneficial. But that doesn't change the whole risk of accidentally revealing the truth.

Although, Byleth is still in his emotionless state right now. A state in which he is not a man of many words. Perhaps if neither of us initiates a conversation that doesn't revolve around training or the War Mages...

"I tink we have a deal."

Byleth only nods to that answer. "Meet me at the end of my next lesson. I'll have a schedule ready by then."

After saying my thanks to that, I turn around and leave. Let's just hope I'm not underestimating Byleth.

* * *

When I walked into Hanneman's classroom, I believed today would be a normal lesson. Illustrating the diagrams for the spells and maybe some demonstrations on us students' end. However, Hanneman managed to sour my interest in it with only seven words.

"Today we will begin studying Dark Magic."

It takes all of my willpower not to slam my head on the desk. The moment to try out this nasty cancer magic has come. God-fucking-dammit.

Most of the other students don't have particular reactions at first, the worst being perplexed looks from a couple of them. But as Hanneman proceeds to explain what Dark Magic spells actually do and what the risks of using them are, that quickly changes to almost all the class being disconcerted, the two notable exceptions being Lysithea and Hubert. And me, but I don't really count since this is the second time I've been told all of this.

Despite my disgust for this branch of Reason, the theory behind Dark Magic is eerily similar to everything else that's been covered before, with diagrams and formulae being the main element to conjure the spells, even if they are more complex than the others. The main difference is that instead of pouring the magic into the surrounding air, we have to draw it out of our bodies, with the raw magic forming the dark spells themselves.

Interesting from an academic point of view, but at the end of the day doesn't make me feel any better about it. That this will apparently be what we will be studying for most of this month doesn't help either.

* * *

"Before we begin, Felix, dere's someting I need to talk to you about," I tell the blue-haired boy at the next fencing lesson, which is thankfully before the brawling one.

"What is it?" he scoffs.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to spar wit you for de next brawling lessons. Mercedes has agreed to following de course, but she's going to need my help wit catching up to de oders."

Knowing how mule-headed Felix is with his training, I was expecting protests of some kind from him. Something like it being more important than helping out an amateur or Mercedes being a lost cause.

Instead, he purses his lips and shakes his head, a disapproving look in his eyes.

"Ridiculous. I thought you were better than this."

Better than what? "What are you talking about?"

"Mercedes. I thought you were above trying to impress girls like this."

Trying to impress…? Wait, _what_?

"What de hell are you even saying? Where did you get an idea like dat?"

"Mercedes is no warrior. Surely you have realized she doesn't have the physique for melee combat. And even if she did, what other reason would there be to waste the time you could use to prepare yourself for the Cats?"

Oh, you antiquated self-absorbed immature little edgelord…

I need to massage the bridge of my nose before I can speak again. "Boy, I'm _not_ trying to woo Mercedes, if dat's what you're saying. I merely tried to aid her wit her studies. She herself said her sword studies were not going well. I merely proposed Brawling because she had already passed de Fighter exam. Helping her get settled in de course is my responsibility."

"Yeah, sure," is all he retaliates with, to my annoyance.

"Look," I sigh. "I get it. You want to keep getting a better and better swordsman. I can respect dat. But not everyone can bend their ideals and view of de world to accommodate dat goal. Some of us just want to help out oders."

"Considering the situation you are in, I'd say you've gone overboard to help one fool when you should be more worried about yourself." He shrugs after that retort. "But whatever. If you wish to put girls before training, that's your prerogative. Not mine." He then turns around and walks away from me.

Well, there goes my sparring partner. Guess I need to find another. Who though? Most of the other students have already picked a training partner they're sparring with. A few of the unnamed ones are still free though, so perhaps if I can single out one from the Blue Lions-

"My, my. Your partner ditched you just like that? How rude of him."

My blood freezes at the sound of Kronya's voice behind me Slowly, I turn around and find her making a fake concerned face, hands wrapped around her back.

"Monica," I greet her, trying my hardest not to panic. "What is it?"

"Oh? Can't I simply be saying hello?" she giggles. A giggle that doesn't sound sinister in the slightest, and yet it manages to shake me.

"We're in de middle of a lesson," I retort, slightly frowning at her. "And we're not in de same House. Wouldn't you rader be wit your classmates?"

"Well…" she hesitates. Or at least, pretends to hesitate. She's convincing enough that I can't tell the difference. "That's kind of a problem for me. All of the current Black Eagles are strangers for me. But you," a spark seems to ignite in her eyes. "You are like me. The odd one out." She casts a quick glance behind me. "And since you no longer have a sparring partner…" My whole body tenses when she places a hand on my shoulder. "What do you say I replace him? I did say you knew who to ask if you needed help."

It takes all of my self-control not to push her hand away from me, call her by her real name and scream at her to get the hell away from me. Self-control and a lot of sweating I pray she isn't paying too much attention to.

At first, I try to think of ways to politely decline her offer. But then Hanneman's words come back to me.

_If you play along, she will grow more at ease around you. And if she grows more at ease, her violent tendencies are more likely to slip through. And if that happens, we will at least be able to prove she's dangerous._

Is it actually a good idea, though? Would I even get a chance to back out if it gets too out of control?

Still, one thing that is true about Kronya is that she's a lunatic who delights in killing. A kind of person that is unpredictable. There is no telling what she could resort to if she doesn't get anything she wants.

"Dat is doable on one condition," I tell her while gently removing her hand. "No more of dis touching stuff."

"Aww, come on," she makes a fake hurt face. "Don't you like it?"

I arch an eyebrow. "How old are you?"

She widens her eyes for a moment before going back to smiling. "Don't you know it's rude to ask a lady her age?"

"It isn't if it's to make a point," I reply, making her smile falter. "I'll ask again: how old are you?"

"Well, I'm…" she trails off, her eyes looking in the distance as she taps her lips thoughtfully. "Nineteen! Yes, that's right. My birthday was just a few days ago."

Sure you are and sure it was.

It is now her turn to arch an eyebrow. "And you? How old are you?"

"Too old for you," I lie. Three years is hardly too old, but she doesn't need to know that.

In response, Kronya puffs her cheeks. "Party-pooper."

"Enough," I cut her off before raising my training sword at her. "We're here to train. So let's do dat."

No sooner do I say that, her face immediately shifts from a cute expression to a much sharper one, her mouth turning into a sinister smirk and her eyes filling with a hunger I had yet to see from her. Her hands unwrap to reveal her own training sword, which she holds in a reversed grip. She keeps it raised at her shoulders' level and hunches forward.

"Gladly."

Uh-oh.

"Come on," she invites with her free hand. "I'll give you the first hit. Respect your elders and all that."

Very funny.

Deciding to play along for now, I attempt a charge head-first, sword raised at my head's level. This should serve to make her think I'm weaker than I actually am.

However, three things happen when I get within Kronya's range. First, something hits me around the liver, with the pain forcing me to drop the sword. Then, before I can even realize it, I find myself tied on her ground, with Kronya holding my right arm and her legs tied around my neck in a grip.

Then, she clicks her tongue. "Very sloppy. Do you realize how easily I could kill you?"

The mirth in her voice as she asks that question doesn't escape me. Am I allowed to regret my decision already?

* * *

Considering how we parted terms the last time we spoke, I thought Ingrid wanted nothing to do with me. And yet, to my surprise, at the next Equestrian Skills lesson, she herself requested to work with me again.

When the two of us are left to tend to the horse, questioning why she wanted this is the first thing I do, but she only tells me 'later'.

Thankfully, after the lesson is finished, as the other students leave, she waits in the stall we were working in. I do the same and wait for her to speak up. Her first words are not what I was expecting.

"In the land you come from, what are knights like?"

I'm initially confused by that question, but then answer. "Knights are long gone in my homeland." Ingrid's head jerks at that. "What we have in deir place is the police, a force of volunteers who undergo a near-military training. All to maintain order witin our country."

Ingrid furrows her brow. "Do they take an oath to serve?"

I shrug. "Not in de way Knights do. Instead of some noble, deir fealty goes to our nation. And upholding de law is as close to a code of honor as dey get." This, of course, is in theory.

Ingrid turns away from me to look in the distance. "I see."

What the hell is up with you, girl? "Why are you asking me all dis?"

"The other day, I had an argument with His Highness. About a friend of ours who died in Duscur."

A friend who died in Duscur? "Are you talking about Glenn Fraldarius?"

She closes her eyes and slowly nods. "I told him I was proud that he passed away as a true knight. But he-" she takes a moment before continuing. "He called his death ugly and needless."

That's…a rough argument to have, I suppose. But what does it have to do with me?

Ingrid reopens her eyes "Everything you told me that day...those were doubts I have long had about my future as a knight. About what I'm supposed to do when my duty presents contradictions. Or even when it goes against my conscience." She turns back to me. "I was hoping you could help me understand His Highness' point of view. And how he could belittle Glenn's death like this."

Oh boy, how do I put this in a tactful way that will get through to her?

"No matter how honorable it may be, deat is not an achievement," I start. "It's de end. Not only de end for de one dying, but also an end for everyone who knew dem."

Ingrid remains unaffected by my words. "I suppose that last part is true, but-"

"Tell me," I cut her off. "Even knowing he died a hero, how did you react to the news of his deat?"

At that question, the blonde girl is unable to keep eye contact with me and her head lowers. "I was devastated. Spent days locked in my room to cry."

I give a small nod to her words. "And dat was just you. One of de many people he knew in life. What of all de oders?"

Ingrid is unable to answer me. She merely closes her eyes.

"De day someone dies, dey leave holes inside dose who knew dem," I continue. "And as you learned wit dose slavers, watching people die is not a pleasant experience. Imagine what Dimitri felt when he had to endure bot at de same time."

Ingrid still doesn't move or talk. But I manage to see a tear falling from her cheek.

Great going, me. What do I say now?

"Still," I continue. "Loss can be scarring, but de memory of de people you lose will always stay wit you." Ingrid raises her head at that. She is trying to keep a stoic expression, but her eyes have reddened. "Tink of what he would have wanted you to make wit your life. And wit dat memory Glenn will never truly be gone."

As I say all of that, I know that it's probably the most trite platitude I could have come up with. But the angles of Ingrid's mouth slightly move upward nonetheless.

"Ahem," a voice intervenes from behind me. Ingrid turns her head in its direction and her face immediately sours. And when I turn around myself, I realize why: it's her philandering friend.

"Hey there guys," Sylvain says, cheeky smile and nonchalant pose both present. "Having a moment, are we?"

I roll my eyes. Of course that's the first thing the misogynist thinks of.

"What do you want, Sylvain?" is Ingrid's cold question. "Are you here to make a fool of yourself again?"

"Now, now, Ingrid," the redhead chuckles. "It's nothing like that. I just wanted to ask Eugenio if he was up for some guys talk."

I arch an eyebrow. Why would he want to have that kind of talk with me? Unless…

Oooooh, I get it.

"Alright," I tell him.

"Please, don't," Ingrid sighs. "He will only get you into trouble."

"Don't worry," I reassure her. "I know how to handle de likes of him. Speaking of, permission to beat him up if his comments piss me off?"

Sylvain slightly pales. "Now, that's-"

"Wholeheartedly granted."

"Oh, come on Ingrid!"

I nod to the blonde. "Tank you."

After some quick salutations, she leaves me with her troublemaking friend. I cross my arms and narrow my eyes as he approaches me.

"So," he starts, as cheeky as always. "About-"

"No," I cut him off.

"You didn't even let me finish!"

"A shameless flirt is not difficult to read. I know exactly what's on your mind. So no. I'm neider trying to woo your friend nor is dere anyting between me and Mercedes."

A faux-hurt expression comes to Sylvain's face as her rubs his hair. "Gee, you think so little of me?"

"You have not given me anyting to tink more of you." And the real reason why you act the way you do doesn't help.

"Fair enough," he chuckles, right before his face takes a...surprisingly more serious expression. "But in all seriousness, the lady I wanted to talk about is neither of them. It's Monica."

I wince at hearing that name. What does he care about her so much he wants to talk about it with me? "Speak."

"The whole way she kind of fell for you right after meeting you for the first time, don't you find it a little suspicious? She's of noble birth and you…" he hesitates a moment. "Well, no offense meant, but you clearly aren't. And that's without mentioning how clingy she's been with you." A small smile shortly returns on his face. "I mean, I can respect those who are into bondage, but-"

I cut him off with a snort. When he's wiped the grin from his face, I frown at him. "So what are you saying exactly?"

"I think she wants something out of you," he states matter-of-factly. "I'm not sure what, and I'm not sure why, but I can assure you girls are more than capable of that."

His jab at the general female population is not welcome. But his sentiment is correct.

"You are not telling me anyting I haven't figured out by myself," I tell him. "However, de only ting I can do to figure out de 'what' and 'why' is playing along for now."

"Are you sure?" he asks, now looking genuinely concerned. "By the time you do that she could have you wrapped around her finger."

"Unless you are volunteering to keep an eye on her, I don't see alternatives."

I regret those words the moment Sylvain furrows his brow and starts rubbing his chin.

"You know what?" he says after a bit, a smug smile now adorning his face. "I may do just that."

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no!

"No, you are not!"

"Relax," he chuckles. "I know my way around girls. If she notices anything, I'll just take her away with my charm."

Pretty sure that'll only make her want to slice your genitals off.

"Besides," he winks, "If you don't have to worry about her, you'll have more time to try your hand with Mercedes."

…

I shoot the redhead a withering glare. He tries to remain composed, but I can see one bead of sweat coming down his neck.

"You have a tirty seconds head start."

"Much obliged," he gulps.

* * *

It isn't often Hanneman requisitions the training grounds for his lessons, since most of the lessons deal with the theory of magic. But when it's time for demonstrations from all the students, there is little choice in the matter, so here we are.

Upon entering, the elderly mage splits us into three groups for the demonstrations, one for each of the Houses, with Hubert and Lysithea supervising the Black Eagles and Golden Deer respectively, and him supervising the Blue Lions himself. Each group is set in a line in front of a dummy each and, one by one, each student is made to cast Miasma against the dummy.

I place myself near the end of the Blue Lions' line, and in doing so, I manage to see how the various students perform.

A not so small number of students fails to summon Miasma altogether, and the majority of those who do only barely manage to cast small balls of goo. Nothing like those I saw Hubert and Lysithea summon in previous occasions.

Out of the characters from the game, they are also a mixed bunch of results. Edelgard is by far the one who performs the best out of _all _students, with the Miasma that comes the closest to matching those Lysithea used against me and some light smoke coming off the mannequin after it's hit. A feat no one else is able to repeat.

Ignatz, Lorenz and Annette come close in terms of matching that kind of power, but not quite, as their spells are noticeably weaker than Edelgard's.

Marianne, Mercedes and Linhardt are closer to the bottom in terms of results, as their Miasmas are so small they could easily be held within two fingers, with Linhardt's not even reaching the mannequin before dissolving.

The one that performs the worst, though, is Dorothea, who fails to summon Miasma altogether. Although between how upbeat she is afterward and the glare Hubert gives her, I can't help but wonder if her failure wasn't intentional.

When it's finally my turn, suffice it to say I'm not thrilled about this whole thing. Too bad I can't just refuse to try it.

"Focus," Hanneman repeats the instructions he's given every other student before me. "Gather the magic, make it flow through your arms and gather as much in your hands as you can."

Without protest, I follow the steps I'm already familiar with. I then raise my hands a few centimeters from one another and try to visualize the goo of Miasma bleeding out of my skin. It isn't then long before a small ball of it forms within them. And following the schemes of the spell, I resupply my body of the required magic as quickly as I pour it into the ball.

Even though Hanneman has said time and time again I could potentially be predisposed toward Dark Magic, I was expecting I could only keep this procedure up for a very short amount of time, enough to conjure something as big as my fist maybe. But to my shock, I am able to go past that. In fact, by the time I start feeling my control over it slipping, it has grown bigger than a basketball.

"Now, let it go!"

Knowing better than to ignore Hanneman's instructions, I separate my hands and set the Miasma free. It flies towards the dummy and, upon connecting with it, makes smoke come off of it. Just like Edelgard's.

Holy crap.

"Impressive."

I barely register the praise and instead look at my hands. The enchantments on this mannequin are the same as the one in Hanneman's study where I first tried Thunder all those months ago. I didn't make it smoke back then. But this time, I have. I _am_ more powerful with Dark Magic.

But is that enough of a reason to use something so dangerous and creepy?

* * *

After that night with Dedue, Rebecca has been rather curt with me. Aggressively so, I'm almost tempted to say. And Catherine has not made any more attempt to approach me.

That is, until tonight.

"Hey there. Mind if I sit with you?"

I raise my head from my plate. Her face doesn't have the usual cheerfulness, replaced by a more serious expression.

"Sure," I tell her, gesturing to the seat in front of me.

She takes the invitation, but we don't talk right away after that. First, we take our time eating our food. Even Catherine, who is usually the one devouring it like there is no tomorrow.

"So," she begins when we're both finished, clasping her hands together and resting her elbows on the table. "I have noticed a lot of weird shit has happened while I was in Gaspard. Alois has become oddly quiet about you and you have taken to avoiding us altogether. Shamir is furious at you and doesn't want to talk about it. Rebecca couldn't get anything out of you and she's pissed off about it." She arches an eyebrow. "Care to tell me what exactly is going on?"

I let out a sigh. It looks like the time to decide has come. But not here.

I glance around and then lean forward to Catherine. "What is a secluded place where we can talk tonight?" I whisper.

Her brow furrows. "The training grounds. Why?"

"Because, Cassandra," her face pales at hearing her real name. "What is going on is bigger dan you tink. And it's best if we talk about it in private. Away from unwanted ears."

"Wh-what…" the blonde Knight stutters. "How?"

"You see why I said 'in private'?"

Her brow furrows again, but after that it takes her only a moment to stand up and gesture for me to follow her, which I do.

After arriving at the training grounds, we make sure to close the large door behind us and then move to the center of it. Catherine is the first of us to speak.

"Okay, first of all, who told you that?" she asks with a puzzled voice. "Was it Alois? One of the Blue Lions kids?"

Oh if only that were the case.

"Actually, it was you," I sigh, a confused expression coming over Catherine's face. "At least, in a manner of speaking."

Her eyes narrow at me. "You mean because of Thunderbrand or something like that?"

"Dat's part of it," I concede. "But de trut is dat I...I..."

I fail to find the words to continue with. Catherine is far more loyal to Rhea than anyone else I've shared the truth with so far. And that loyalty came before everything else. Even the citizens of Fhirdiad - her compatriots - that Rhea dooms to burn at the end of Crimson Flower. Or even her childhood friend. Should I really do this?

"Yes?"

Catherine's prod breaks my train of thought. I look at her, as an inquisitive look adorns her face. This is one of the two people that welcomed me into this Monastery and one of the few friends I had made. And I rewarded that by deceiving her.

It is time I own up to my mistake. Whatever the consequences.

"De trut is you, Alois, Shamir, Hanneman, Setet, Rhea, de Blue Lions, I knew every last one of you long before I ever came to Fódlan."

Catherine widens her eyes to my words. Then, she visibly attempts to keep her lips shut as her cheeks swell and redden. Finally, her mouth bursts open and she doubles over as a loud laugh escapes her.

Okay, that wasn't the reaction I was expecting. Is this gonna be a first reaction only or will I have to prove my words?

"Oh Goddess," Catherine wipes a tear from her eye as she finishes her laugh. "For a moment I thought you were serious."

"I _am_ serious."

"Oh yeah? Well, hi serious. I'm Catherine."

Kill. Me. Now.

"In all seriousness, though," Catherine continues as the mirth leaves her voice. "How do you actually know about my old name?"

I rub the bridge of my nose. Sorry, Cat, but if you won't believe me I have no alternative. "Let's put it dis way. If what I said wasn't de trut, how else would I know dat you have an history with Lord Lonato's late son Cristophe and dat you were de one to deliver him to de Church?"

"Sorry, that ain't as big of a deal as you think," she shrugs. "Anyone who told you about my old name could have easily told you that as well."

I cross my arms before continuing. "Even dat de reason he was executed was not because of de Tragedy, but because he plotted to assassinate Rhea?"

That gets Catherine to tense her stance and widen her eyes. She stares at me incredulously as she shifts on her feet. "Goddess almighty," she whispers. "You _are_ serious?"

I nod. Took her long enough to get it.

"But...how?"

"Because everyting dat has happened, from de moment de House Leaders were attacked by bandits up until now, was de beginning of a tale from my world. A story titled, 'Fire Emblem: Tree Houses'."

Catherine listens with rapt attention as I go through how the setting was presented in the game and how the events of the game were supposed to play out, including Byleth's decision of which House to teach. I manage to get to the point where we are at, with us waiting for the Rite of Rebirth, and am about to tell her about the Sword of the Creator.

But, to my shock, Catherine puts a hand on my mouth first, shutting me up.

"Stop," is all she says dejectedly. "Just...stop."

Not wanting to contradict the muscular woman in front of me, when she removes her hand I don't say anything else.

"Just…" she takes a deep breath and massages the bridge of her nose. "Do you realize the kind of position you are putting me in?"

Trust me, this is still nothing. You haven't let me get to the part where your beloved Lady Rhea is a millenia old dragon and the 'Nightcrawlers' true identities.

The blonde sighs before continuing. "Tell me this: who are the Nightcrawlers really? Are they actually responsible for Duscur?"

I nod. "Dey are. And dey are old enemies of Rhea's." Catherine quirks an eyebrow. "I don't know if she's already realized who dey are, but if I'd told her den and dere I would be dead now because of it. Along wit a great many more tings I haven't said yet. Dat is why I've been keeping quiet."

"That bad, huh?" I nod and she lets out another sigh. "Is this why Shamir and Alois suddenly don't want anything more to do with you?"

"Dem and Hanneman," I precise. "Along wit everyting else you haven't heard yet."

"And for your sake, it's best if I don't. Otherwise, I suspect I would be duty-bound to bring you in front of Lady Rhea."

Yeah, I figured as much.

Catherine rubs the back of her head. "Well, now you told me too. What now?"

"Professor Hanneman and I are trying to prevent de Nightcrawlers from enacting deir plans," I answer. "Whatever you feel toward me at dis moment, I ask dat you trust dis to us, as I have chosen to trust you wit de trut."

Catherine narrows her eyes, "What plans? What is it they intend to do?"

"Sorry. Dat falls under de stuff dat would force you to bring me to Rhea."

Catherine closes her eyes and shakes her head at that response. When she reopens them, she crosses her arms and starts giving me a withering glare.

Here comes _that_ moment.

"Say it," I groan, lowering my gaze.

"What?"

Are you seriously asking? "Dat I'm a shitty human being, dat I've abused your trust and dat I should have said someting. I've heard it before."

"Then all I'll only add one more thing." She points a finger to me. "For old times' sake, I want to keep quiet for now. But should I discover you mean the Church or Lady Rhea ill, I will have to act accordingly. This is your only warning."

At the moment, I am tempted to say something, but whenever I try to find words to say, I come up blank. And really, what could I say? That she's giving me this kind of chance is already a miracle in and of itself.

So I simply nod. "Understood."

"Good."

She then walks off and heads away from the training grounds. Leaving me alone and unable to keep my head up.

It's strange. Telling Hanneman and Alois after I first told Shamir felt simpler. Telling Catherine felt even simpler. But after I'd told Alois and Hanneman I'd also felt hollower. Now, though? Now I feel...nothing.

* * *

[Edelgard]

"Who is it?" I ask upon hearing knocks on my door. I wasn't expecting anyone tonight. I had planned to just go over my papers. Who could it be?

"It is I, Your Highness," comes Hubert's voice from the other side.

"Come in," I immediately reply. If he's here so late, there must be something important.

When Hubert does enter, the grave expression on his face is already telling of the kind of information he has. "Lady Edelgard, I must report that my monitoring of Mister Eugenio has finally borne fruit."

Ah, finally. After Professor Hanneman requested my blood, it had taken little to find out that he and Eugenio had mysteriously been seeing each other even more frequently than Lysithea. That and all the strangeness surrounding him was more than enough to warrant keeping an eye on him. The 'assassins' that attacked the Blue Lions and his consequent joining of their House, even more so.

And those assassins...the Demonic Wyverns could normally only be the work of Those Who Slither In The Dark. But that they let Dimitri and the others live is already unlike their style. That they also meddled with the plan with Lord Lonato only further suggests their disassociation with them.

And somehow, Eugenio is the one holding the answer about their identities. And 'Monica's return' means Those Who Slither In The Dark know that as well.

"What is it, Hubert?"

"I was able to chance over a unique opportunity: a meeting between him and Dame Catherine." He takes his hand to his chin in a meditative stance. "I heard some rather...intriguing information."

"I'm listening."

Hubert proceeds with his recollection of what he heard. The things he reveals are rather...disconcerting, to say the least.

"A story?" I ask, furrowing my brow in the process. "As in a retelling of events that have yet to happen? Is he saying he's from the future?" That would be an insane claim, but I'm not leaving anything out just yet.

Hubert shakes his head. "No, my lady. From the way he explained everything, it would appear whatever land he hails from already holds knowledge of events that have happened and will happen. Whether that is mere chance or some kind of soothsayer's doing is unclear."

And from the sound of things, he has now decided to oppose Those Who Slither In The Dark - or the Nightcrawlers, as he called them. However, regardless of whether he knows about the Flame Emperor, it does not mean he has to be an enemy of ours as well.

"Should I dispose of him, Lady Edelgard?"

I shake my head. "Not yet. His knowledge of the future could prove useful to our cause. And even if it won't, the moment he dies, those who summoned him will disappear." And a rogue element is something I can not allow.

Hubert bows to my instructions. "As you say, Lady Edelgard."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And chapter. Not a lot of has happened this time around, but I think some more calm is needed before what is coming in the next two chapters.
> 
> Once more, thank you to Softandhappy for betareading. You can join us on the TreeHouse Discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> See you all next time!


	30. Chapter 25-Black Eagles

A week and a half before the Rite of Rebirth, all students are summoned to a meeting room within the Academy. A very large meeting room more than capable to house all twenty-six of us, the canonical students, 'Monica' and me.

I do notice one anomaly in all this, though: within the Alliance students' ranks there is one extra bundle of messy purple hair, trying to hide behind Raphael's frame.

"What's Bernadetta doing wit de Golden Deer?" I whisper to Mercedes.

"She was transferred to their class a couple of days ago," she replies. "You hadn't heard?"

I shake my head. "No, I hadn't." I guess I didn't pay enough attention. Not that her transfer is a bad thing. That poor girl deserves better than to be set on fire for a tactical maneuver. As one of Byleth's students, she should survive whatever comes.

Of course, that is only her.

I turn to look at the Black Eagles students. No matter what one tries to do, Edelgard and Hubert always die at the end of Verdant Wind. But all the others do not necessarily share that fate. If recruited to Byleth's class, they can be saved.

But Byleth is not being controlled by a player this time around. He doesn't know recruitment means life or death for these kids. And if left to his own devices, Bernadetta may be the only Black Eagle he's going to save.

However, I do know. I do know what's coming for them and I do know I can save their lives. What I don't know is how. Even if they'd be willing to go through the political bullshit of switching houses just because one classmate told them to, I can offer no explanation that won't sound like mad rambling.

As I consider my options, I give a quick glance to all of them.

Petra is the Brigid heiress who believes Edelgard is the key to her people's freedom.

Dorothea is the Adrestian commoner who believes Edelgard is the key to toppling the unjust Crest society that made her grow in the gutters.

Linhardt is the studious one whose only interest is Crests and despises violence and blood.

Ferdinand is the proud noble boy who sees Edelgard as a model of nobility he needs to be, or even surpass.

And Caspar is the Crestless guy with no inheritance to speak of, seeking to make out a name for himself on his own terms.

If all of them were to be convinced that Edelgard's ideals are in contrast to their goals, would they even have to be recruited by Byleth then? Would planting seeds of doubt early on not be enough to have them denounce Edelgard's war when it starts?

Of course, the question is how to plant those seeds.

My thoughts, however, are interrupted when the three homeroom teachers walk into the room, a rolled parchment in Byleth's hands.

After we all gather around the table in the center of the room, Byleth unfolds the parchment on it, revealing it to be a map of the Monastery. He and the others then proceed to explain that they came to the conclusion that the assassination attempt on the Archbishop must be a ruse, a suspicion shared by Rhea and that she had tasked Shamir to covertly communicate to them. With her help, they narrowed down places the Knights guarding Rhea would normally be looking after and that could be of interest to anti-Church dissenters to one possible target: the Holy Mausoleum.

So, more or less the same routine from the game. Although with a little twist.

"The night of the Rite we will split into two groups," Byleth explains. "Professors Hanneman and Manuela will coordinate one guarding over Lady Rhea, in case this turns out to be an actual attempt on her life. I will coordinate the one overseeing the Holy Mausoleum." He looks over us all. "Any questions?"

Kronya is the first to intervene. "Who is going in which group, Professor?"

"I am glad you asked," Byleth responds, giving her a small nod. He then proceeds to list the names of students of his group, which is about half of them. But when my name comes up, I stop paying attention to which names he's saying. And I barely listen to the other questions made by the other students after that.

So...this is it. The first time I get involved into an actual battle from the game. And the one where Byleth would wield the Sword of the Creator for the first time, revealing to all his Crest and revealing to the Agarthans his connection to Sothis.

At that thought, a doubt comes to my mind. If the Night Cats really are not in league with the Slitherers, then Solon and the others should not know yet. If I could somehow keep Byleth from finding the Sword, would that spare Remire?

I quickly shake that thought away. Solon himself said he could have conducted whatever experiment he did on Remire anywhere else. At least this way, we can anticipate where he's going to be. And Byleth gets his hands on the Sword in the first place because a Slither is about to get it first. Letting _them_ get their hands on its power is absolutely a no. Not to mention Byleth wielding it may be exactly what is going to be needed.

Still, perhaps it's for the best if I'm going to be a part of this. This is going to be a delicate part of future events. Better if I'm there to assess how it plays out.

* * *

Later that day, Hanneman and I meet in his office to discuss what we're going to do on the night of the Rite of Rebirth. He agrees with my assessment regarding the Sword of the Creator and Byleth. But when I bring up my thoughts regarding the Black Eagles, he looks at me confusedly.

"I don't understand. Why is having them join Professor Byleth's class intertwined to their survival?"

"Because dat's how it was in de story," I explain. "In all de versions, dere were accounts of Bylet recruiting students from de oder classes dat would later join his war effort."

Hanneman's eyes narrow. "That seems forced. Being in a certain class should not automatically mean where one's loyalties stand. Have you any concrete evidence of students from different countries actually working together during the war?"

I nod. "Ferdinand and Lysitea joined forces for an operation in Aegir territory. So did Leonie and Linhardt for one in…" damn, what was it called? "A lake in de Kingdom."

Hanneman slightly nods to both. "I see." He then leans back into his chair and starts rubbing his chin. "So Lord Linhardt and Lord Ferdinand were among those who could switch their allegiance. So was Lady Bernadetta, I assume?" I nod. "Who else?"

"Everyone except Edelgard and Hubert. Bot died in Enbarr at de end of de war no matter what."

Hanneman purses his lips and shakes his head. "I'm afraid that outcome won't be possible now that we're living it." What?! "The classes can't have less than four students. Any transfer request past that number is denied by default."

Oh, no…

"What do we do den?"

"Between Lord Linhardt's interest in Crests and Professor Byleth's peculiar one, I may be able to think of a way to have him change House. But everyone else," he lets out a sigh, "I'm sorry. I can not help you."

Those words weigh on me more than I thought they could. So not only I must think of ways to save them, I also need to decide who to save. If Hanneman really has Linhardt already covered, that leaves two from Dorothea, Petra, Ferdinand and Caspar. But how can I make this kind of choice?

"Petra and Dorotea have no true allegiance to Adrestia," I tink aloud. "So maybe - just maybe - dey could be swayed to turn on Edelgard even during de war if deir fait is shaken beforehand. But Ferdinand and Caspar..."

"One thing at a time," Hanneman interrupts me. "The best we can do for now is doing what we _can_. And remember, we still don't know the details of those five years. Even if we fail now, we still don't know it will be too late."

I almost tell him that then we'd be relying on maybes instead of certainties. But my mind quickly goes to all the stuff so far that should have happened but didn't and that should have not happened but did.

"Alright," I sigh. "So what do you suggest I do?"

"For now just watch and wait for an opportunity. It will come. I'm sure of it."

I give a tentative nod to his words.

"Also, there is another possibility I would like to propose," I arch an eyebrow to that. "With all that is happening around us, and all that you said is going to revolve around Professor Byleth, would it not be for the best that he learns all that we know?"

"You want to tell Bylet?!" I ask bewildered. "Do you realize how dangerous it will be if more people learn de trut? Besides, what reason would he have to believe us?"

"It _is_ a risk, and it _is_ possible he will not believe anything we say," he concedes with a nod. "But consider: should a gamble like this pay off, we would have the most important person in all of Fódlan on our side. Furthermore, if we keep the truth only to ourselves, justifying it as too dangerous or too unbelievable for anyone else to know it, how are we any different from Lady Rhea or Lady Edelgard?"

…

"So what do you say?"

"I...tink I see what you mean," I gulp. "Let's just...wait for him to have de Creator Sword."

The corners of his mouth turn slightly upward before he gives another nod. "Very well."

* * *

With Felix deciding to quit being my sparring partner entirely, that meant I needed a new one for everything else as well. I was able to fill Brawling with helping Mercedes get up to speed with the others, but that still left me alone during Byleth's classes, as she's still more of a healer than a fighter. And who took the opportunity to train with me?

"Really?" Kronya chuckles as we stand opposite of each other, her casually twirling her training blade in her hand, me adjusting my gauntlets while the wooden sword stays sheathed by my hip. The lessons with Byleth are proceeding, but I still have a long way to go before I can adequately incorporate elemental punches. But even if I could, I'm not risking showing Kronya all I can do. The element of surprise could play in my favor in the future. "You want to go bare-handed to a swordfight?"

"Bare-handed doesn't mean defenseless," I retort. "And I have more up my sleeves dan just brute force." Not that I have much of that in the first place.

"You mean your magic tricks?" she quips, smiling coyly. "I've heard you follow the magic courses."

Why does that not surprise me?

"Sorry to tell you, but usually those that try to master both physical and magical combat tend to suck at both," she says, a smug smile on her face while she twirls one of her locks of free hair.

A smug smile that disappears when I speak again.

"What makes you say dat?" I ask, arching an eyebrow. "You saw dat many during last year?"

To her credit, the smile is the only thing that falters, as she doesn't hesitate further when she speaks again. "Hearsay and watching some of my classmates try it. Suffice it to say, it was not impressive."

Sure, sure.

"Anyway," I lift my arms in front of my chest defensively. "Ready when you are."

That sharpness I saw on her face the other day comes back soon as I say that and she steadies her sword in that same reverse grip. "Good."

Okay, I have to play it carefully now. I'm not limited to just a sword this time, but that doesn't mean I can afford to lower my guard. She's already proven that she's much faster than me and can overpower me at close range far too easily.

Neither of us moves at first. I stay on my guard examining her stance, finding no weakness I can exploit for the moment. I don't see her eyes moving, but I suspect she's doing the same.

After a while of staring at each other, Kronya starts circling me, her gaze staring down at me like a predator would its prey while her sinister smirk broadens. I grit my teeth as a cold sweat comes down my neck, trying my hardest not to let her make me panic.

But the moment her smirk broadens further into a grin, I fail to.

A Thunder leaves my hands, headed straight for her head. She effortlessly rolls below it and starts sprinting toward me.

Trying not to panic further, I let out an Elwind, hoping its more area of effect nature won't miss. She merely squats down and plants the sword into the ground, the motion helping her shrug off the spell entirely.

Well crap, what now?

"Not bad," she chuckles. "For an amateur, that is."

Oh yeah, you clown? "You're not bad yourself. Are all students dis good by de end of de year or is it just you?"

Again, her grin falters. "W-well, it depends. I mean, I dedicated all my studies to physical training, while one who favours the arcane-"

I don't let her finish. While she's busy making up excuses, I conjure an Elthunder and aim it at her two feet. She's taken by surprise, but still manages to jump up to avoid it. Right into the Wind I cast next, which pushes her backward. Point for me.

Of course, that isn't enough to knock her down and she is quickly back to her feet, although her face now is twisted into a snarl.

"You dare?" she hisses.

I do, bitch.

Kronya's next move is charging head-first to me, more quickly and with her gaze more focused on me. I try to throw a couple more Winds in her directions, but she's still able to easily dodge them, her new anger not influencing her reflexes in the slightest.

I rest my left hand on the pommel of the sword on my hip. I had better be quick with this.

I start charging another Thunder and hold it while Kronya closes the distance between us. Only when she is but a couple steps away from me, do I throw it on the ground between the two of us, the sudden impact breaking her charge.

Despite that, I'm still within sword-reach, as she proves by positioning her weapon next to my temple.

"I win," she cackles.

"No, it's a tie."

She looks confusedly at me at first. Then she starts looking down at my left arm. Then her eyes widen when she notices the wooden blade almost touching her abdomen.

"How could you…?!"

"I'm improving," is all I tell her. "Maybe I'll be able to catch up to you soon."

She glares at those words. A glare that promises murder and is clearly meant to make me quiver. I try my best not to let it do so.

"We'll see about that," she says when she decides to break that glare as she takes a few steps back. Her next grin somehow feels more savage than before. "Care for another round?"

"Very well."

Suffice it to say, she fights much more aggressively from then on. And despite my best efforts, she manages to win most of the next bouts. All to show I still have quite a way to go, despite the small victory.

* * *

Of the coming exams for this month, one that I plan on taking is the Myrmidon one. Magic and hand-to-hand combat have been good enough so far, but I doubt they will cut it for whatever comes next. And swords are my best bet at the moment.

However, I would rather not repeat the fiasco of the Fighter exam, so I must prepare better for this one. My only option, besides more training, is to ask Jeritza for some texts that could improve my form.

And that went…well, not as awkwardly as I feared. I simply asked, he gave a couple of texts and then we just shared pleasantries. Guess him being a man of few words can come in handy.

So now, I'm here in the library, looking for those texts. But as it turns out, I'm not the only one doing that.

"Good morning, Mister Eugenio," Petra greets me when I arrive at the bookshelf.

"Good morning Petra," I greet her back. "Seeking study materials for de Mercenary exam?"

"The Thief one actually."

Eh, it was close enough.

After that exchange, I proceed to go over the bookshelf and look for the books Jeritza suggested. Petra does the same, but I notice her glancing at me every now and again.

"Is someting wrong?" I ask her after a bit of that.

"If I can be asking, you are not actual from the Alliance, are you?"

Finally decided to ask about that, did she?

"No," I reply. "Dat was merely a cover de Archbishop suggested for me."

"I have understanding," she continues. "You had worry...were worried about suffering persecution for being foreign."

"Someting like dat," I sigh. "I suppose you saw for yourself in Enbarr what non-natives are treated like."

Petra furrows her brow at that. "Truth...to be told?" I nod. "Those of Enbarr's palace treated me with respect. Some talked behind my back, but I had belief it was because of my station." She purses her lips. "But after watching how Prince Dimitri's retainer, Dame Shamir and others are being treated…"

"Yeah," I cut her off. "Your treatment in Enbarr was de exception dat proves de rule."

She looks at me confusedly. "The exception that proves the rule?"

"It's a way of saying dat de peculiarity of your situation shows how poorly oders are usually treated."

"Oh," she replies, "I have understanding. Please, forgive my misunderstanding."

"Dere is no need to," I tell her. "Idioms are not easy to assimilate. And you at least have a better grasp of Adrestian common dan me."

Petra's eyes suddenly widen after I say that. What's wrong?

"What are you meaning?" she asks dejectedly. "Your speech pattern is better than mine. And you have understanding of Fódlan idioms."

"But you don't sound like you have your mout stuffed every time you speak," I counter. "And I only know de idioms because dey are not too different from my homeland's."

"Hmmm," Petra murmurs as she proceeds to just stare at me, with her eyes narrowed at me. What's gotten into her head now?

"Mister Eugenio, how about we make a bargain?" she then asks out of the blue. "I can be teaching you pronunciation in exchange for your knowledge."

Oh? "You help me improve my pronunciation and I help you speak Adrestian more fluently?"

She nods. "Yes, that is what I am saying."

Huh...it's kind of too late to hide my foreign origins by now. Too many people have already learned of them. But it's true that I would still benefit from being able to talk more clearly. And I'm no expert on English, but if Petra is half as diligent as she was portrayed as, I should be able to help her. Not to mention this could give me the opening I need to save her life.

"De way I was taught might not be conventional for Fódlan," I warn her. "Are you sure about dis?"

"I am."

Excellent.

"Den you've got yourself a deal." She looks at me quizzically. "It means I accept."

Petra smiles. "You have gratitude. I have looking...I look forward to learning from you."

So do I, Petra. So do I.

* * *

[Myson]

I'm hating this mission with all my being. First of all, I had to throw away two years of searching for the accursed Saint Aubin's relic. Then, I had to go on a wild goose chase in search of a bunch of traitors, risking to be caught by damned Seiros goons, only to find nothing. Then I was sent to play archeologist, which should have been anyone else's job but mine. Then my idiot subordinates decided getting themselves eaten by Demonic Beasts was a good idea to waste even more of my time.

And now, to top it all off, one of those still alive is making me stare into a hole in the ground. A hole into the ground that merely reveals a cave filled to the brim with bricks.

"Well?" I snap at the imbecile. "Am I supposed to wait for something to pop out or are you going to explain why this is important?"

The worm shivers pathetically before kneeling to the hole's border and passing it with his fingers. "W-we followed the lingering traces to this point of the canyon, sir," he whimpers. "And this hole...it's recent. It wasn't formed by erosion."

"And?" I growl.

The runt clears his throat before picking a sheet from his pockets. "We found some kind of mark engraved into the walls down there. We thought you may want to see it."

"This had better be good," I warn as I take the sheet from him.

The so-called mark is a circle with some scribbles on its border that make it look like an eye. There are also some other symbols drawn around it. Some I recognize from Nabatean artifacts our people have safeguarded since the time of the Elites, but about half of them are unknown to me.

Nabatean symbols circling around an eye...that is oddly similar to-

No. No, it can't be.

I scowl at my subordinate. "Are you _absolutely_ sure this drawing is _precise_?"

"Y-yes," he whimpers. "We double-checked every single one of those marks we found. They were all the same. And we drew every detail we noticed."

"_Every_ detail?"

"Every detail."

I give the mark one last look. I will need to have our records in Shambhala checked, but if this is what I think it is, the traitors are far more dangerous than we'd realized.

"I-if I may, Lord Sage?" What now?! "What is it?"

"None of your business," I chastise him and he immediately simmers down. Good. No need to risk a fool letting slip we may have stumbled upon Outworlds Magic before we're certain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what happens when the first scene of a chapter grows out of proportion? You make a chapter out of it. Shorter than usual, but a chapter nonetheless.
> 
> Thank you to Softandhappy for betareading the chapter and to Zero5876 for helping with the scene with Petra. You can join us all at the TreeHouse Discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> Now, some good and bad news for the next update. Bad news is it may not come before May. Good news is it will have two chapters uploaded at the same time. I've got some pretty important stuff happening there and I want to have both ready before pubblishing either.
> 
> In the meantime, if you're into the Pokémon fandom, I've started a side project regarding it: a SI titled 'Underdogs', with Eugenio as the main character yet again.
> 
> Anyways, until next time, folks!


	31. Chapter 26-The Goddess' Rite of Rebirth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part one of a double update. Author's notes will be in the next chapter.

[Aelfric]

Just like every other night of this moon, I go to the abandoned Chapel. And just like every other night, I hear the sound of breaking glass coming from inside of it.

But tonight, to my surprise, I hear it not once, but twice, one shortly after the first. And when Atalanta comes out, she is not alone, as there is another of her people by her side.

It's a man, almost as tall as me, dressed with long dark green - almost black - robes, with a bronze collar and bracers. His hair is pale shade of brown, as is the short goatee on his chin. And his pale skin and dark eyes are just like Atalanta's. The irises are emerald instead of golden, but they are no less uncanny.

This new man carries himself with a confident stance, with his hands folded behind his back and a neutral expression with which he regards me.

"Wolf," Atalanta draws back my attention. "Allow me to introduce-"

Before she can finish, the new Agarthan raises a hand and she immediately cuts herself off. "It is just the three of us here, Atalanta," the man chides, with a tone that carries authority. "Your subterfuges and nicknames are unnecessary here."

Atalanta glares at the man, but does not voice any protest. Who is the man that holds such authority over her?

"Cardinal Aelfric," he addresses me, the angles of his mouth turning upward, before he, to my surprise, bows to me. "I am Professor Periander. Formerly of the Shambhala Elder Magic Academy." He stands up again and offers a hand. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

Hesitantly, I grab and shake it. "Likewise. Are you the Master I have heard about?"

This Professor Periander lets out a weak chuckle. "No. I apologize for keeping you in the dark, but the Master requires his identity to be kept secret. His name is unlikely to mean anything to you, but to our enemies within our own people means much more."

I furrow my brow. "How many within your organization know it?"

"Only three. And two of them stand in front of you right now."

"We are not here for idle chatter," Atalanta scoffs from the side.

If the professor is offended by the interruption, he doesn't show it. "Of course. Do you have what was requested of you, Cardinal?"

"I do," I answer, grabbing the vial with my lock of hair from my pocket. "Although I still don't see how my hair is so important."

"If you will allow me, it will be easier to show you how." Professor Periander grabs a flask from his belt. Upon opening it, he reveals a liquid within it that looks like water but releases a foul smell. "Place the sample here."

This thing is a potion, there is no doubt about that. Potions are not my area of expertise, but I do not recall anything that matches this color and smell. Or any that require a specific person's hair.

Although, I know next to nothing about Agarthan potions. Maybe this makes more sense to them?

I follow Professor Periander's instructions, let the lock fall into the flask and watch as the potion starts boiling. The professor smiles as that happens, before raising the flask to his lips and drinking its content.

When he's finished, the professor lets out a couple of coughs but he's still able to recompose himself quickly. "Perfect," he says with a smile on his face. "Now, to keep my word…"

Right as he says it, patches of his flesh are covered by a bright glow that soon spreads all over his body. And where that glow spreads, to my astonishment, his skin takes a natural color instead of its usual sickening white.

Atalanta watches impassively as that happens.

By the time that glow has covered the professor entirely, his skin is not the only thing to change. His jaw has broadened, his goatee has gone away and his hair has lengthened and darkened. And when his eyes are revealed, it's not the eerie dark ones I expect but a pair of brown ones.

And, to my dismay, what stands before me is not the Agarthan professor I have been introduced to. It's another me wearing his robes.

"Wh-?" I ask, taken aback. "What is this sorcery?"

"Science," I am answered. By my own voice. "Inside us all, there is a substance that determines what we are like." My doppelganger shakes the flask. "And this just gave me the ability to look just like you."

"And-" I gulp. "And what are you going to do with it?"

"Glad you asked. This is the part Atalanta will explain."

I let out a breath of relief as the man steps away from me to make room for Atalanta. "Listen well," she says, crossing her arms. "I'm only going to say this once."

* * *

[Eugenio]

Finally, the day of the Rite of Rebirth has come. All the students that will take part in overseeing the Holy Mausoleum have gathered in the same meeting room as last week, waiting for Byleth to show up, while the others have rendezvoused with Hanneman and Manuela at the cathedral. What the other two professors have set up to watch over Rhea, I have no idea.

Meanwhile, we are the ones handpicked by Byleth. Of the Blue Lions, besides me, there's Mercedes, Dimitri, Dedue and Felix. All with a glow-up to their gear. Mercedes now sport a more padded version of the robe she used to wear before; Dimitri has taken up a blue and gray version of his uniform with a pauldron and more reinforced gauntlets and greaves; Dedue has ditched his leather armor for actual plate mail; Felix has also added some light armor to his outfit and I now have the flowing robes of a Mage. An exam I passed just two days ago.

Of the Black Eagles, there are Edelgard, who wears a red and bronze version of Dimitri's armor; Hubert, who wears a dark version of the robe I am; Linhardt, who wears the same stuff as Mercedes only green instead of white; and Petra, who wears a simple leather outfit.

Of the Golden Deer, there are Claude, with a yellow and brown version of his fellow House Leaders' armor; Leonie, who wears light yellow armor; Hilda, who has reinforced boots and gauntlets accompanying her leather armor, and Lysithea, who wears a white version of the Mage robes.

That last one is also making a point of not even looking at me.

"I see your Myrmidon exam has gone well," Mercedes tells me out of the blue, eyes on the sword I'm carrying by my hip.

Guess I've gotta fill in for Annette's absence.

"Yes," I reply. "Ald..._although_, it wasn't easy. I wasn't expecting..._the_ professor to carry out...the exam himself."

Indeed, the fact that instead of standing our ground against the shadowy constructions we had to spar against Jeritza one-on-one was a surprise I could have done without. Makes me wonder how hard he went against his sister, though.

"When I tried it, Professor Jeritza disarmed me with just one swing." Really? Ouch. "How did it go for you?"

More or less how the duel between Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader goes in Empire Strikes Back. An expert that moves with precision and focus, easily wiping the floor with a novice. The difference this time being I didn't lose an arm. If Jeritza decided I could still pass, he must have seen something in our bout I didn't.

"I stood up against him for a bit, but he easily overpowered me," I say, shrugging. "I'm not sure why he to...thought my performance was adequate." At least I know to stay clear of him tonight.

Yes, tonight. Even though everyone knows there's a possibility we will find intruders within the Mausoleum, I'm pretty sure the others are hoping we won't. Only _I_ know for sure. And the thought that someone else might die by my hand tonight...

"I also noticed your new gloves," Mercedes continues, eyes fixed on my hands. "Where did you get them?"

"Bylet gave...them to me," I answer. "Do you recall my first lesson with him? And what happened with my bout against Lysitea?" She nods. "According to him, with d...these, I should be able to replicate...that."

"Oh? How so?"

"He said d...they are standard equipment for Morfis' War Mages," Mercedes furrows her brow. "Members of...their army d...that mix magic and martial arts."

Mercedes tilts her head. "Really? How curious. I've never heard of anything like this."

I shrug. "I don't exactly know how it works. You'll need to ask Bylet for details. Maybe he'll also get you a pair now dat you're also studying Brawling."

Mercedes winces after I say that and her face pales. She quickly recovers, though, and despite her blushing she tries to muster one of her closed-eyes smiles. "Let's...not get ahead of ourselves. I'm not sure my skills are worthy of Professor Byleth's attention."

Alright. Your call, Anime Mom.

"Also, I see your study sessions with Petra are going well."

"D...they are," I admit, nodding. "I'm still far from perfect, but I...think...the accent is less obvious now."

"You speak less fluently now," Mercedes observes, with a small giggle. "But I'm sure with practice you'll get used to it."

I give her a small smile and nod. "Tank you."

"You're welcome."

After that exchange, it isn't long before Byleth arrives. He gives us a quick rundown of what we're going to be dealing with, warns us to be careful and to follow his instructions, and then we're off. To the Holy Mausoleum. To a fight with the Western Church and the first true Slitherers. To the Creator Sword.

To telling Byleth the truth.

* * *

[Mausoleum]

Our travel to the Mausoleum's entrance is rather uneventful. As Byleth leads the way through the Monastery's grounds, we come across almost no one at all, save for a couple of students rushing to the cathedral and paying us little attention.

Everyone walks with stoic expression on the way. The few who aren't are Claude and Hilda, who look rather nonchalant, Linhardt, who just walks around with his eyes closed, making me wonder if he isn't just sleepwalking, and Mercedes, who just looks...tense.

"Are you alright?" I ask her.

My question snaps her out of it. "I am," she replies, even though she doesn't sound convincing. "It's just that I'm wondering…" she glances at our group before coming closer to my ear and whispering. "Do you think it could be possible the Night Cats kidnapped Lord Lonato just to learn of this attack?"

That is...I honestly hadn't taken that possibility into consideration. When I first heard of Lonato's kidnapping, I still thought the Cats were working with the rest of the Slitherers. And when Hanneman brought up the possibility they were renegades, the thought didn't come back to me.

But...they wouldn't dare show up, right? The Mausoleum is in the middle of Garreg Mach. And their appearance is too peculiar not to draw attention, right? And otherwise Hanneman would have brought up the possibility, right?

Right?

"Eugenio?"

"Sorry," I reply. "It's just I hadn't t...thought about...that."

She nods to me. "I see. But do you think it could be possible?"

"Hmmm," I reply. "Even assuming d- they were keeping watch over Lonato, what could...they gain from learning of...this attack?"

No way they already knew I'd be there. And unless they are somehow more friendly to the Church than the rest of their kind, they have no reason to prevent whatever damage they are supposed to do to the Mausoleum.

"Perhaps they were hoping to use the chaos as a cover to look for you?"

I shake my head. "Doubtful. As far as...they know, I'm in the crowd attending...the Rite of Rebirth. Even if I were d- there, finding me wid- without stirring a ruckus would be a challenge."

"I suppose you're right," Mercedes concedes, although her face and her tone don't match those words.

"Here we are," Byleth announces from the head of the group as he points to a door that, upon opening it, reveals a set of stairs going downward. "We will proceed slowly and with caution from here. According to Seteth, there are torches enchanted to automatically lit up if someone enters. Should we find the place already lit up, it means the enemy is already here. Stay on your toes."

With that instruction, we proceed down the stairs, making sure to keep quiet all the way down, taking one step at a time. I'm not sure what everyone's thoughts are as we proceed down, but it doesn't take long for us to reach the end of the stairs. And to see the light coming from inside.

Seeing that, Byleth gestures for us to get to the sides of the entrance, which we all do. And then, after he's also pressed his back against the wall, Byleth leans forward to take a peek at the inside.

After what feels like just a couple of seconds, he leans back again. "Alright, here's the situation," he whispers, eyes...slightly narrowed? "There are three archways inside. The two side ones have about five armed men each. The middle one has just one on horseback."

The Death Knight.

"There are also mages further inside, They seem to be trying to open a casket. Likely the one containing Saint Seiros' bones."

"Dastards," I hear Dimitri mutter.

"So, what's the plan, Teach?" Claude chimes in.

"Claude, Edelgard, Dimitri," Byleth turns to each one as he says their names. "You three are with me. We're dealing with the mounted man."

I risk a glance at Edelgard and Hubert as he says that. Neither of those two has any sort of apparent reaction.

"Hilda and Leonie," he turns to the two Deers, the latter immediately straightening up while the former stays resting on her axe's pommel. "You and the Black Eagles are taking the left archway. Lysithea," he turns to the short mage, who is listening attentively to him. "You and the Blue Lions are taking the right one."

I'm in the same group with Lysithea? Uh-oh.

"We won't let you down, Professor!" Leonie proudly declares. More loudly than any of us had been speaking thus far.

"Did you hear that?"

"Where did it come from?"

I turn to glare at the tomboy. As does a good half of the other students. And the only thing she can do is blush.

I think I hear Byleth let out a quiet sigh before he speaks again. "Let's go."

We do as he says and rush into the Mausoleum.

The first thing about this place that catches my attention is that it's more large than wide. When compared to other archways from various churches I've seen, these are among the least wide, with the pillars defining them only a few meters away from each other. Something that is, however, countered by the fact that they go on longer than I would have ever expected. So much so that the casket Byleth mentioned is barely noticeable from where we are. What the hell was Rhea thinking when she designed this place?

However, I don't have the time to dwell on that too long. Right as Dedue, Felix, Mercedes and I get into the right archway, the eyes of the enemies Byleth spotted are immediately on us. They don't attack us right away, but their firm stances suggest they won't just let us pass.

Before we proceed, I turn to look at the central archway. And lo and behold, he's there: the Death Knight. Same scythe, same spiked armor, same horned skull-shaped helmet. And he looks about as ridiculous as he did in the game with his 'Grim Reaper' motif.

"How do we go about this?" I hear Mercedes ask. Turning around, I see her looking at our adversaries with a concerned face. Dedue is stealing a few glances toward Dimitri, while Lysithea and Felix are entirely focused on them, the latter simply narrowing her eyes, the former outright glaring.

"Simple: stay out of my way," Felix responds before suddenly charging headfirst toward the armed men, to everyone's surprise.

"No wait!" Lysithea tries to say, outstretching a hand, but is too late to stop him, as Felix clashes blades with the closest thug. "Damn it!"

To her credit, the kid calms down fairly quickly and turns to the Duscurian. "Dedue, you cover that idiot before he gets himself killed."

The big guy takes a moment before nodding, turning to the swordsman of our group, unstrapping his shield and axe and rushing to his position.

"Mercedes," Lysithea turns to the older girl, who looks at her attentively. "You are with me. We're providing cover fire."

Mercedes stiffly nods.

"And what about me?" I ask. Although judging by how Lysithea tenses up, slowly turns to me and looks at me with contempt, maybe it wasn't a good idea.

"You go help Felix and Dedue," she hisses.

"Are you-?"

"Now."

Oookay...better not push my luck here.

I turn around to better assess the situation. There are two guys with a lance, two with an axe and one with a sword. All five of them are now surrounding Felix and Dedue, the former being the target of the two lancers while Dedue tries to shield him from being cornered by the other three. They are giving as much as they're getting, but they're still two against five.

However, at the corners of the semicircle made by those five I can easily see one of the spearmen trying to skewer Felix to the left and one of the axemen keeping Dedue busy to the right. Meaning I have a clear shot at either of them.

"Alright," I mutter as I clench my gloved hands. "Let's do it."

"Just get a move on already!" Lysithea snaps behind me. "We can't aim at them while they're mixed up like this, and you just standing there isn't helping!"

Easy there, pipsqueak.

"You two be ready to fire at will," I tell her and Mercedes.

"What?"

I don't take the time to answer that. I just rush to the lancer on the left, the markings on my gloves starting to glow. Taking advantage of the guy's focus on Felix, I'm able to grab him by his arm.

And release the Thunder I had been charging.

The electricity quickly flows from the point where I grabbed the man to the rest of his body, effectively enveloping him entirely. The man cries out in pain as that happens, but it isn't long before he stops and he goes limp.

Limp, but not unbreathing from what I hear. Good, I haven't killed him.

I let go of his arm and he falls down unconscious.

I then look up to the others who were fighting and see they are looking at me with stupor, some more evident than others. Just as I was hoping.

Without missing a beat, I charge an Arcwind and release it on the remaining four goons, blasting them against the Mausoleum's wall and clearing Felix and Dedue from them. The goons have certainly taken a hit, but they're not down yet if their groans are anything to go by.

"Step back, boys!" I order the two, grabbing Felix by his arm and pulling him when he seems about ready to jump those guys. Dedue is thankfully more receptive. "Now girls!"

Shortly after I say that, a fireball hits one of the brigands that was trying to get up again. More arrive, quickly followed by Miasmas, all hitting these hooligans. By the end of that barrage, all of them have burns on their body. And only two are still breathing. I have to grit my teeth as I watch what is left of the other two.

Again, more people dead at my feet. Again, I'm feeling nothing. It wasn't by my hand they died this time, but that doesn't make this any better. Not to me.

A whistle coming from behind me breaks my thoughts. "Well, you guys sure handled this bunch fast."

Felix, Dedue and I all turn around at hearing Claude's voice. And upon doing so, we're met by the sight of not just him, but Dimitri too.

"What are you two doing here?" I ask confusedly. I glance past the two of them, and the Death Knight is still just standing in the central archway, but he's apparently not minding the two opponents that slipped past him. Or four, considering Byleth and Edelgard are also nowhere to be seen. "Don't tell me, d- that skull guy let you pass."

"As a matter of fact, he did," Dimitri replies just as confused, turning in the direction of the Death Knight. "One of the mages ordered him to attack us, but he refused."

"Quote and quote," Claude chimes in, making a bad impression of the Death Knight's voice. "'I don't take commands. Or waste my time on weaklings'." He lets out a chuckle. "Guess he was expecting to be fighting the Knights."

Uh...that's right. Beating him is not a requirement of this part. Wasn't expecting him to just ignore us like this for real, though.

"Anyway, Teach told the two of us to reinforce you while he and Her Highness reinforced the Eagles." Claude glances past us after saying that. "Looks like you cleared the enemy just fine already, though."

"Over there!" a new voice shouts from somewhere closer to the end of the Mausoleum. And turning in its direction, there are three guys in white and brown robes similar to those of the Church's priests, only with some more furs added. "How did they dispose of the mercenaries so quickly?"

"It doesn't matter. Blast them!"

As one, the three priests conjure spells of their own and launch them. Two are Fires. One is a Miasma. All three are headed right for us.

"Look out!"

Claude, Dimitri, Felix and I manage to get out of the way of the spells. Dedue doesn't react fast enough, but thankfully he manages to raise his shield to defend himself from the worst of the impact.

Before the three priests have a chance to fire another volley, Miasmas and Fires start flying toward them as well, scattering them for the time being. Lysithea and Mercedes rejoin us after that.

"Is everyone alright?" is the first thing Mercedes says. "Any injury?"

We all reassure her, then we turn back to the situation at hand.

We have theoretically the mages outnumbered, but the only ones of us who can return fire are me, Mercedes, Lysithea and Claude. Dimitri, Dedue and Felix are useless so long as they remain at a distance. And the only cover between the mages and us they could use to approach are the columns separating this archway from the central one.

"What do we do?" I ask the others.

"Are you really asking?" Claude chuckles before wrapping an arm over Dimitri's and Felix's shoulders each, the first looking at him confusedly, the latter just scowling. "It's simple: we get His Highness and Grumpy over there and they'll take care of them."

Seriously?

"What?" Dimitri asks dejectedly. "Claude, there is no cover we can use! They'll blast us away the moment we set off!"

"Not to mention none of us knows Warp," Lysithea chimes in. "We're supposed to study it later in the Faith Magic course!"

Claude lets the two Lions go and raises his hands defensively. "I know, I know," he says light-heartedly. "So how about you guys fire your spells at the same time as those folks?"

"That'd be suicide!" Lysithea keeps protesting. "We can't attack and dodge their spells at the same time."

Right as she says that, an idea hits me. "But...neither can d- they."

Claude nods to that, grin ever present. "Precisely. And while they are forced to take cover," he glances at Dimitri and Felix, "these two will approach them."

"Three," Dedue chimes in. "I'm going with them."

His statement gets Claude's smile to falter somewhat. "Sorry, big guy, but I'm afraid that's not a good idea."

Why not? Dedue can't do much if he stays in the backlines with us.

"I'm afraid he's right," Mercedes intervenes as she looks Dedue up and down. "Your armor slows you down. And that could make you an easy target."

Oh…

Dedue doesn't look at all convinced by that reasoning and he then turns to Dimitri.

"Don't worry, Dedue," the Boy Scout reassures him. "We'll be careful."

The Duscurian still looks unconvinced, but this time he nods to him.

"Great!" Claude intervenes after that. "Now let's get to it, shall we?"

Yes. Let's.

* * *

It took some work, but eventually Claude, Lysithea, Mercedes and I were able to cover Dimitri and Felix enough for them to close the gap between us and the mages and deal with them. And after that, we were able to rejoin and check the bodies.

As we do that, Mercedes and Dimitri are able to identify the mages as priests of the Western Church thanks to the furs of their robes - or at least, that's what seems to tip them off. The others start debating on why the Western Church would do this, but I mostly tune it out since this is no news to me and turn to look in the direction of the casket.

As it turns out, there is still one mage left. It's just another priest of the Western Church, with no beaked mask like in the game, but it's still the guy that manages to open the casket. Open it and pull out a sword out of it.

What happens after that is basically the same as in the game, only seen by a different angle: Byleth rushes him, disarms the guy, the sword makes a brief twirl upward before landing in Byleth's free hand, the mage tries to attack him with a fireball, the sword lights up and Byleth parries it.

"What the-?" I hear Dimitri ask, aghast. Looking around, I see the rest of the students have also turned to look at the casket, and now surprise is on all of their faces.

"Is…" Lysithea tries to say. "Is that sword glowing?"

Ah, you sweet summer children.

After admiring the Creator Sword for a moment, dropping his normal sword and parrying another fireball, Byleth charges the mage and easily cuts him down. Just like he always did in the game.

Well, I suppose this is it. The chapter ended here and soon Catherine will arrive with reinforce-

_CRASH_

...no.

_CRASH_

Not them. Not here. Not now.

I look at the central archway. All across it, there are now a series of new figures. All of them wear dark green hooded robes, with the beaks of plague doctor-like black masks with green ornaments protruding from beneath the hoods.

"What the-?" Dimitri mutters.

"Whoa," Claude adds. "Who are these guys all of a sudden?"

"N-no," I hear Lysithea whisper. "It can't be-"

These are not the Night Cats themselves. But the masks and Lysithea's reaction leave little doubt about it: these are Agarthans, at least a dozen of them, and all dark mages from the looks and feel of it.

Before any of us can react, the Slitherer mages all raise a hand, some toward us, others to the archway opposite to the one we're in. Squinting my eyes, I manage to glimpse faint blue lights forming in their palms, while I also sense them gathering magic. At first, I expect them to conjure Dark spells of some kind.

"Shit!" I exclaim as indigo fireballs form in the Slitherers' hands. "Blue Fire?!"

No sooner do I say that, streams of Blue Fire are shot forward.

"Scatter!" Dimitri orders.

But that proves unnecessary, as the streams of fire don't reach us, but land between the space two columns. But from the spots where they land, the Blue Fire spreads, first forming a line of fire between them which then proceeds to form a large circle around our group.

Three of these Agarthan mages are now standing near the circle we are in, hands outstretched toward us. Past them, I see three more outstretching theirs toward the other archway, their backs turned to us. The rest have surrounded Byleth, Blue fireballs aimed at him, while he keeps the Creator Sword raised defensively and glances around his assailants.

"This is the best they can do?" Felix scoffs in the meantime. "Pathetic."

"I don't think this is all there is to it," Claude replies lightly, although there is a more worried note to his voice now. He grabs his bow and nocks an arrow, aiming it at one of the Slitherers focused on us. "Watch," he says before letting it loose.

As soon as that happens, that same mage raises his hands and the circle sends up a tall burst of flames that immediately incinerates the arrow.

"Yeah, I thought as much," Claude comments.

Crap.

"_Interesting._"

And as if things couldn't get any worse, now the Death Knight has decided to move from where he was standing and approach these newcomers. None of them seems to acknowledge him as he glances over them. Only Byleth does

"_Which one of you wishes to die first?_"

"_You will claim no life today, Emile von Bartels._"

I freeze in place upon hearing that voice, while the Death Knight turns around. I only heard it once. And I only heard it say one word. But the voice distortion leaves little doubt who it belongs to.

And when I also look, there she is. Tigress. With her katana drawn and the rest of the Night Cats by her side. The twin-axes guy, the lancer that must be Panther and-

Oh Jesus Christ, _that_ is Lion?

* * *

[Periander]

I wait for the so-called students of the Officers' Academy to enter the Mausoleum before I can descend there myself.

Their presence here has been a rather unwelcome surprise. I would have thought the heads of the Church would assign their best Knight at guarding a place as important as this instead of children, but I suppose that is too much to ask from the beasts that torched our civilization and chained humanity.

At least the disguise as Cardinal Aelfric has worked to perfection. The man's instructions on how to carry myself have been invaluable in not stirring any unwarranted attention. And with him down in Abyss conducting the place's version of the Rite of Rebirth, we run no risk of someone crossing both of us.

It isn't long after they've descended that the sounds of battle begin. That is my cue to peek into the Mausoleum.

Let's see...that fool of the Western Bishop has sent some of his priests, a few armed men, possibly mercenaries, and…

Oh. Well, well, the butcherer of House Bartels. The Master's hunch must be correct if the Imperial Princess was willing to send her attack dog here.

Well, no matter. We have the means to both get past and deal with him.

Closing my eyes, I reach out for the other mage seeking to make the necessary connection to warp inside here. Finding her is not too difficult as we are not so far apart. Nor is it warping her other three passengers. And the sounds of battle do cover that of their arrival.

"Welcome, Night Cats," I greet the four of them, all wrapped in their usual cloaks.

Actually, no that isn't quite true. Doctor Selene has not put on either of them. And instead of the black flowy robes I'm used to seeing her wear she now wears leather pants and boots, wrapped gloves and a sleeveless top. Her usually flowy hair is kept into a ponytail and she's carrying a massive warhammer in one of her hands.

"What are you doing, Doctor?" I ask her.

"Oh, this?" she replies, casually resting the warhammer on her shoulder. "Since we have plenty of mages already tonight, I thought I'd take advantage of my other talent. And I put on something easier to move in for the occasion."

I glance at Atalanta. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

Very well.

I give the quartet a quick rundown of the situation inside the Mausoleum. The one called Cheetah pays me little attention, but the other three listen to me attentively. Atalanta also furrows her brow upon hearing about the Flame Emperor's enforcer.

"_I see,_" she comments after I'm finished. "_Those kids being here instead of the Knights changes little. But Bartels' presence will make this more difficult._"

"It's a good thing I'm here, then," Selene intervenes, drawing everyone's attention. "I'll keep him busy, you do the rest."

"_Do not get overconfident, Lion,_" Atalanta interjects. "_That man's skills with a blade are far superior than yours._"

"Why do you think I picked a hammer to fight?"

I have to suppress a chuckle at seeing Atalanta facepalm.

"_Whatever. Let's begin._"

After saying that, Atalanta drops down on her knees, grabs a satchel from her belt and puts out the twelve Warping Glasses inside. Doctor Selene then summons Wind Magic and has them roll inside the Mausoleum, slowly but steadily slipping past the Bartels heir and close to the casket at the end.

And not a moment too soon. By the time they are all in place, I sense a shift in the surrounding magic, signaling the unlocking of the casket

"_So, we set?_" Cheetah asks.

"We are, my boy," I reply to him, before looking back to his leader. "Do you have further need of me?"

Atalanta shakes her head. She then points back to the top of the stairway. "_Make sure no one leaves or enters through there. So long as your pupils remember not to let themselves be taken alive, we can take over from here._"

I suppress a shudder at that reminder. I told my students what the risks were going to be and what would be required of them. That so many volunteered regardless both surprised and made me proud. But I pray it does not come to that.

"I shall do as you say," I tell her before shedding the Aelfric disguise and walking back to the entrance. And upon already hearing voices approaching, I know Atalanta's paranoia wasn't misguided this time.

I take a calming breath before conjuring Blue Fire.

For the Light. For Agartha. For Fódlan.


	32. Chapter 27-The Night Cats Strike Back

"_Interesting,_" the Death Knight hisses as the Night Cats surround him. "_You would stand against me?_"

"_We are not with your masters, Bartels,_" Tigress replies to him. "_And this doesn't concern you. Leave if you know what's best for you._"

"Emile…" I hear Mercedes whisper. And turning to look at her, I see she's reacting as well as one could expect: visibly shaking on her feet, with unsteady breath, widened eyes and mouth hanging wide open.

And she's not the only one. While she's watching the fire mages that got us trapped instead of the masked people staring down one another, Lysithea is in much the same condition, with the addition of cold sweat running down her temples.

And the others aren't much better. While Claudes's gaze keeps going from one group to the other, Felix, Dedue and Dimitri have their narrowed eyes locked on the Cats. Dimitri also with gritted teeth and fists clenched on his lance.

And, back by the casket, there is Byleth. Keeping his attention to the mages aiming at him, but still stealing a few glances to the Cats.

"_That man is dead,_" the Death Knight points his scythe at each one of the Cats. "_Now, who among you shall die first?_"

"Me," 'Lion' says, with both hands holding the hilt of the hammer she's carrying and the head aimed at him. "I'm curious to see if you're all you're crammed up to be."

As of now, she is the only Slitherer I have seen that wasn't hidden under layers of clothing or wearing a human disguise. And boy, seeing her kind's pale skin is even worse than I could have imagined. I have seen some people who didn't take much sunlight, but something so white is just...unnatural. From this distance I can't get a good look at her eyes, but I can bet they aren't any better.

Between my surprise at seeing her skin and her whole change of attire, I almost didn't even recognize her. Her hair and her stature are the only things I recognize from our last encounter. Instead of the powerful mage that ambushed the Blue Lions in the wilds, what I see before me is basically a bodybuilder wielding a heavy weapon like it weighs little.

"_So be it,_" the Death Knight growls before raising his scythe and spurring his horse into a charge for the Slitherer woman.

Despite the quickly approaching threat, Lion doesn't look fazed by it and is standing her ground, hammer still raised at the Death Knight and stance unflinching.

It is only when a swing of his scythe comes for her that she moves. Or rather, she rotates over her right, building momentum for her own swing, and then her hammer connects with the horse's side, pushing it and its rider away from her and toward one of the columns.

"Santo…" I gasp, as the Death Knight and his mount impact with the column, causing severe structural damage to it in the process.

The horse doesn't move after that. The Death Knight, however, comes out of it in better shape as he pushes it away. And he does not seem to have taken any damage, save for one horn chipped off of his helmet.

Lion slowly approaches him as that happens. "Not impressed," she says, clicking her tongue.

In response, the Death Knight lets out a loud guttural sound as he brandishes his scythe in her direction. A guttural sound after which both combatants charge at each other.

And then it isn't long before hammer and scythe meet.

While Lion and the Death Knight proceed to trade blows, the three other Night Cats walk forward, past the other Slitherers and onward to Byleth.

"Alright, that takes care of the big scary Knight there," Claude, who was looking at the two dueling people, intervenes. I and the other Lions turn to look at him, but Lysithea remains fixed on the object of her attention. "Anyone got any idea how to get past the fire?"

Silence is all the answer he gets, as everyone is either too focused elsewhere or doesn't know what to say.

As for me, I turn to look at the mages, who still have their hands stretched out. These guys are the ones keeping this circle in place, no doubt about that. And there's nothing we can throw at them without them seeing it and burning it with another burst. Our only option would be distracting them, but if not even the Death Knight threatening to kill them managed to, what else can?

"Hey, you seem deep in thought." I wince as Claude gives my arm a light elbow, that unmistakable smile still on his face. "Got something you want to say?"

I shake my head. "Not yet. I'm just...thinking."

"Oh yeah? Want to share what's on your mind?"

I refrain from letting out a sigh. Must he really right now?

"I'm...thinking if we want to break free, we must distract d- them," I say, nudging to the mages. "Problem is...they don't seem easy to distract."

"Too true," Claude lightly agrees, "I wonder what's got them so focused."

"I suppose it's d- the Blue Fire. With how unstable it is, I suppose dey wouldn't...want to…"

Wait a frigging moment.

Blue Fire _is_ unstable. And this one is so unstable that it requires the full attention of three mages. But if this spell were to be overloaded beyond their control…

I place a hand on Claude's chest and push him back. "Stay back." I have no idea if this will do, but in case it does, it's best if he isn't too close.

I conjure an Arcthunder and aim each of the three spheres at one of the mages. Predictably, one of them raises his hands again and summons another burst. Which, just as predictably but less to my content, harmlessly absorbs the spell before simmering down.

Crap. Should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

"Well," Claude whistles. "That didn't work." No shit, Sherlock. "Got a plan B?"

Oh, that I do: if at first you don't succeed, try again. Only add more firepower to it. And I know just who I need for that.

The problem now is snapping her out of her stupor.

I turn to the white-haired girl and find her still shaking at the sight of the Slitherers and muttering some gibberish mixed with names I don't recognize. I can sympathize with whatever is in her head, but now is not the time for it.

I grab her by the shoulder and shake her. "Snap out of it, Lysitea! We need you!"

"Wh-what-?" Lysithea recoils at the motion. When she sees it's me, her face's features instantly harden and, upon seeing what was shaking her, pushes my hand aside. "Don't you touch me!"

Good, she's back to her senses.

"Never mind dat," I tell her as I point at the line of Blue Fire surrounding us. "We need to overload it. And you are… the most powerful mage of d- the seven of us. Can you do it?"

Lysithea furrows her brow. "Overload it?" She turns to look at the Blue Fire. "What do you…?"

After a moment of hesitation, her eyes widen and she turns back to me. "Are you insane?!"

"Insane, I hope not." Though it's a feeble hope at this point. "Without a better plan, yes."

"Do you even-?!"

"Listen," I cut her off. "I have seen for myself how dangerous Blue Fire is. I know tinkering with it is a bad idea. But unless you can come up with a better plan, d- this is all we have, unless you can come up with a better one."

"But...but…"

I arch an eyebrow. "What are you? A petulant kid who rejects plans when d- they come from people she dislikes, or are you an adult?"

That seems to do the trick, as her stance immediately tightens up and her eyes shoot daggers at me. "I _am_ an adult!"

I nod at hearing that. "Good."

"Ahem," Dimitri draws the two of us' attention to him, the others standing behind him, with Felix rolling his eyes and the others looking confusedly between one another. "I'm glad you came to an… understanding. But, what exactly do you want to do?"

I gesture for him to come closer. "I don't want dese wannabe crows to overhear. So listen well, Boy Scout."

* * *

[Byleth]

The three hooded figures with cat masks step forward while the pale woman engages with this 'Emile von Bartels', the six mages around me making way for them to pass.

Out of the three, I recognize the lancer that attacked us back in Gaspard. If he's here, the other two wearing his same armor must be the other Night Cats. And these mages with the beaked masks are not part of any cult or organization I have ever seen before. This must mean they are Nightcrawlers themselves. Possibly the rank and file of the organization when compared to these assassins.

"_**How very strange. There is something familiar about them.**_"

You have met them before, Sothis?

"_**Not exactly. I'm pretty sure this is the first time I've seen them. But the beaked masks remind me of...something. I don't know.**_"

"_It seems fate has a wicked sense of humor._" The words coldly coming out of the woman's mouth interrupt the conversation between us. Her two companions tighten the grips on their weapons and start pacing around on my left and right. "_Arranging your retrieval of the Sword of the Creator like this, using the future leaders of Fódlan as meat shields is cold even for your daughter._"

My...daughter? "What are you talking about?"

The woman raises her sword, the tip pointed at me. "_Trying to deceive us is pointless, Fell Star. We know who you really are. _What _you really are._"

Fell Star again. "I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I don't know what this 'Fell Star' is. And I have no daughter."

In response to my words, the woman reaches for her mask with her free hand and removes it as it makes a hissing sound. What the mask reveals is a scowling white-skinned face with narrowed eyes with black scleras enveloping golden irises. "Do the people of Agartha stir your memory?"

It doesn't stir mine. Sothis' is another matter.

"_**Agartha? I...I know that name.**_"

That the word did mean something to her and that these people would hate her so leaves only one explanation. "You and Sothis were enemies at one point, weren't you?"

The two men stop pacing after my question. The woman's face twitches. "You mean we and you, don't you?"

"Sothis may inhabit my head, but she and I are not one and the same."

The woman purses her lips and furrows her brow before talking again. "If that is true, surrender that sword. I promise no harm shall come to you or your students."

"What do you want with it?"

"To keep it away from Sothis' hands. That monster once torched Fódlan, and none of us shall let that happen again."

"_**Wh-what?**_"

"Now," the woman lowers her sword and raises her free hand. "Give it to me."

Sothis...is what they're saying true?

"_**I...I don't know! I can't remember anything! It could be, but then I...why? Why would I do-?**_"

_Calm down._

Her doubt sounds too genuine. And she is not denying the possibility she did that. Whatever the truth is, she really doesn't remember. And somehow, this sword is linked to her.

"The sword stays with me," I declare, causing the woman to wince. "I may not know what transpired between your people and Sothis, but her existence is now linked to mine."

"If you hold onto that, you will only restore more of her power," she warns. "And when she's restored enough, your mind and body will cease to be yours."

"Perhaps," I concede while raising the blade to defend myself. "But I'll worry about it when the time comes."

The woman's features harden once again and she puts her mask back on. "_You are a fool, Ashen Demon. And we will not let your mistake doom us-_"

An explosion cuts her off. An explosion from where Claude, Lysithea and the Blue Lions were being kept. A cloud of smoke obscures them, save for the two pillars severely damaged by the explosion.

"Attack!" I hear Dimitri shout, right before he, Felix, Dedue and Claude emerge from the cloud and attack the Nightcrawlers.

"_Panther, Cheetah,_" the woman hisses. "_Intervene. Subdue the students._"

"_What about you, Tigress?_"

I almost miss it, but 'Tigress' reaches for a knife hidden beneath her cloak and throws it at me. I'm not able to dodge it entirely, but a scratch on my cheek is all the damage it does.

"_I'll manage. Go._"

The two Night Cats immediately break off and join the ensuing fray. Tigress, on the other hand, starts circling me, sword pointed at me.

"_I will take the Sword of the Creator. Even if I must pry it from your cold dead hands._"

"You will try."

* * *

[Eugenio]

Aside from Lysithea needing the help of one of my Arcthunders to actually detonate the Blue Fire, the plan went mostly as I'd intended. She and I took the front with Mercedes, who deviated any burst of flames coming our way and the others stayed behind, shielded by Mercedes.

"Did it work?"

"It did," Lysithea answers Dimitri. "I can no longer sense the Dark Magic around us.

The Boy Scout nods solemnly. "Perfect. Attack!"

Dimitri immediately charges into the cloud of smoke that formed after the explosion, quickly followed by Dedue, Felix and Claude

"Well, you've heard him, ladies," I say. "Let's go before we lose de element of-"

To my surprise, Mercedes is not paying attention to what I'm saying. She's instead looking intently to the side, where Lion and the Death Knight are still beating each other up.

"Mercedes? Are you alright?" I ask the blonde girl.

"That man," her voice sounds distant as she replies. "Tigress called him Emile."

Oh, shoot me in the balls.

"It doesn't matter what he's called, the others need us," Lysithea chimes in. "Come on, we have to help!"

"Lysitea," I tell the short girl, who turns to me. "Emile von Bartels is… the name of her little broder."

Lysithea furrows her brow. Then she looks at Mercedes. Then at the Death Knight. "You mean that big scary guy and her brother are the same person?"

"He must be," Mercedes intervenes. "He and I are the last ones of House Bartels."

A worried look comes over Lysithea's features as she turns back to me.

"You go help the others," I whisper. "I'll keep an eye on her."

Lysithea gives me a hesitant nod. "Make sure that she doesn't do anything reckless."

Ah, reckless is normally a word I wouldn't associate with Mercedes. But when it comes to her family and with how she's acting right now, I'm not too confident.

"I will."

Lysithea gives me a quick nod before going after the others. That leaves me with nothing to do but go next to Mercedes.

"Mercedes, I…"

"After all these years, I finally met him again like this," she mutters, unheeding my words. "What happened to him? What is he doing here?"

Oh if only you knew just what he's involved with right now.

The latest clang of the two combatants draws my attention to them. They both have their weapons in a lock now, neither giving ground to the other. The Death Knight's armor has some dents that weren't there before and Lion has some bruises and cuts here and there. And despite the hits they've taken, they don't seem to have any intentions to relent any time soon.

And I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm actually kind of rooting for the Death Knight to win this fight.

All of a sudden, Lion manages to overcome her opponent's strength and push him backward. Not by much, only a couple of steps, but the big guy is stunned long enough for her to charge another swing and kick a leg from under him. The Death Knight lets out a screech of pain when that happens, and Lions lifts her hammer, ready to hit him again.

The only thing stopping her is a Fire hitting her side.

"What t-?"

When I look again, Mercedes is no longer by my side. Instead, she has approached Lion and her hands are outstretched in her direction.

Oh fuck no!

"Well, well," Lion says as she regards Mercedes. "To what do I owe your attention Miss Martriz?"

"Leave him alone," Mercedes replies, her voice more firm than it usually is and her face making a more severe expression than it has any right to.

Lion looks perplexedly at her, then she gives a glance to a still downed Death Knight and then looks back at her. "Oh, that's right, you were a Bartels for a time. Well, sorry to tell you this, honey, but your brother has fallen in with the wrong people."

Mercedes doesn't react in any way.

Lion merely lets out a sigh. "It's times like this that I'm glad I'm an only child. Oh well, I'll try not to hurt you too badly, honey."

Oh you won't, bitch! Not again!

I rush to where Mercedes is and place myself between her and Lion before any spell can fly. "Eugenio?" Mercedes asks, astonished, while Lion looks at me surprised.

"Go heal your broder. I'll handle dis hag." Getting the murderous psycho back on his feet is a stupid idea, but Mercedes won't have it any other way. The fact I get to settle the score with this woman has nothing to do with this. Nothing at all.

Thankfully, Mercedes heeds my words and rushes to her brother's side. That leaves me with the Slitherer sorceress and - apparently - brawler. And her black eyes that feel like staring into the void, with the indigo circlets forming the irises feeling like the void is staring back.

"Well, well," Lion chuckles "I didn't believe it when we were told you actually joined the Blue Lions, but I guess it's true. I suppose I'll have to give someone my apologies for laughing at the notion."

That brings me back to the present. "You won't get to do dat," I hiss as I raise a menacing finger. "You hurt Shamir. Now, I'll do de same to you. And I'll take my time doing it."

Lion merely arches an eyebrow. "You made a friend out of that assassin? Ridiculous," she scoffs.

That is where I lose it. Without losing a moment, I charge a Thunder and shoot it straight at the bitch. To my displeasure, though, she manages to hastily raise her hands and parry it.

"My, my," she says. "You've grown stronger with magic, haven't you?"

I do not deign that with an answer. I only gather more Thunder Magic in my hands as I scowl at her.

Lion clicks her tongue. "Cheetah would have liked a crack at you. Oh, well." She drops the hammer and raises her own hands, gathering Dark Magic. She then gives me a smirk. "Just make it interesting, will you?"

A low growl escapes me, after which the two of us start circling each other. A few Thunders and Miasmas are exchanged between us, but both are parried or easily dodged

One part of me wants to go all out and throw the more powerful spells at her right away, so that she gets what she deserves. But the more rational part knows that would be suicide. She's clearly more powerful than me, both magically and physically if her duel with the Death Knight is anything to go by. And it also recalls the advice I gave Mercedes about outsmarting your opponent. But how do I do that?

"My, my. Hesitating after that fire you pulled out?" Lion chuckles. "Well, that's fine. It means I can do this."

Right after saying that, Lion makes a few gestures with her right wrist, clenches her fingers and points them at me. And right as she does that, five large purple spikes appear between us, all aimed at me.

"Time to dance, Outworlder."

One by one, Lion unclenches her fingers. And for each finger, one spike is shot at me.

Crap, did _this_ have to be my introduction to Dark Spikes?

Thankfully, I manage to dodge the spikes, even though the last two come dangerously close to skewering me. But I don't get to catch my breath, before another set of spikes is already locked on me.

"Care to do that again?"

Knowing full well I can't keep dodging with my asthma long enough for her to run out of juice, I try a different approach: going as fast as I can, I conjure an Arcwind and release it against the spikes. And as the two spells collide, the resulting effect is less than I'd hoped but still good enough, as the spikes all miss me and end up planted harmlessly around me.

Although I'm immediately back on edge when Lion clicks her tongue.

"Wrong move," is all she says before snapping her fingers. And before the spikes detonate.

Pain immediately spreads all through my body as the magical energy scorches my body and the explosion blasts me aside. More pain follows when I connect with one of the hard brick walls of the Mausoleum. And after that, the pain becomes unbearable around my ribcage if I so much as try to move anything.

"How disappointing," I hear Lion in the distance, much weaker than before. "If this is all you can do now, Lynx should have been able to overpower you back then. Oh, and speaking of her..."

I feel something grab the back of my neck tightly, sending more shots of pain around that area. Before I can so much as register it's a hand, I am lifted up from the ground and am face to face with a scowling Lion.

"That was the little sister of Panther and Cheetah you killed that day," she hisses. "One of the few people they had left from their old life. Someone they loved dearly. And you took that away from them. What do you have to say for yourself?"

…

"Well?" the grip on my neck tightens, almost into a choke. "I'm waiting."

"I…" I keep my gaze with her unnatural eyes. The unnatural eyes of this Agarthan who has me by her mercy. Who I first faced two months ago not far from Garreg Mach. Who I learned took me from my world. Who denied me everything I had. Who left me in a position where I have to fear for my life. Who…

_Her usual attire has been replaced by a white tunic, not unlike one you'd see on patients in a hospital. That she allowed it to be changed in that is the first sign of how badly she's been reduced._

_Her right hand is in a cast, her fingers so enveloped in it they can't possibly move. Her face has taken an unnatural purple colouring, with her nose set at an angle it wasn't originally. Her breaths come out weakly, with her brow furrowing a few times when they do._

_She doesn't seem to be conscious. But her closed swollen eyes do not make it clear if that's true._

Who reduced Shamir the way she is now.

"I don't...think you are in a position to judge me."

With as much speed as I can muster, I grab Lion's arm with one hand and her face with the other. And before she can remove either, I activate Nosferatu with both gloves.

Lion lets out a screech unlike any I've ever heard before as the magic sips her life force and pours it into my body, slowly and excruciatingly but effectively repairing my damaged bones and healing my bruises.

"S-stop!" Lion pleads. I ignore her. Just like I ignore her cries as I keep up Nosferatu. I do not stop even when she lets my neck go, I merely land on my feet and keep absorbing the life out of her, forcing her on her knees. And by the time she tries to use her free arm to pull my hand away from her face, she's too weak to do it.

This...thing crippled Shamir for life. She ruined _my_ life. And now she has the gall to call me out for the life of one of her accomplices? For hurting two more? She deserves this. She deserves this and worse.

But...why does it feel less and less right the more it goes on?

_I have never taken a life before. I have only ever heard stories on what killing for the first time is like. Stories of how it can change you._

_So why am I not feeling anything?_

I…

_But every time I try to voice my complaints, my head immediately goes to the first guy I fought today. The one I gutted myself. And how now I'm feeling the same as what I felt with the Slitherer: nothing._

...

_Again, more people dead at my feet. Again, I'm feeling nothing. It wasn't by my hand they died this time, but that doesn't make this any better. Not to me._

"Maledizione!"

I push Lion to the floor, letting her go as a result. I can only clench my fists and watch as her previous shreeks now give way to pitiful whimpers as she clutches her wounded arm to the chest and tries to cover the hand-shaped burn scar that now marrs her face.

I can't do it! Even all she has done, all the death I have seen without feeling anything, all that I have killed, I can't do it! Why her of all people?!

"Eugenio, look out!"

Mercedes' panicked shout stirs me from my thoughts just in time to notice the axe flying toward me and dodge in the nick of time, the blade just barely brushing against the tip of my nose before it lands not far from me.

"_Well, well. Seems you learned your lesson._"

I turn where that voice came from, the same direction that axe was launched from, and am met by the sight of another Night Cat. Specifically, the twin-axes guy whose name I have yet to learn.

Actually, wait. Lion mentioned another name I hadn't heard before. Cheetah. And she said he is…

Oh, crap. A vengeful brother.

"_Last time, you survived because I didn't have the time to finish you off,_" he declares, his remaining axe pointed at me. "_This time, you won't be as lucky._"

I step away from Lion and start conjuring more Thunder Magic, Cheetah's gaze never leaving me. If I can keep this guy at a distance, I should be able to handle him, but his fellows all had some kind of gimmick attached to their weapons. I doubt he's any different.

Fortunately, at the side of my vision, I see I'm not alone this time around.

"Please, stand down," Mercedes warns him, fire dancing in her outstretched hands. "We don't want to harm you."

Cheetah turns to regard her for a second. Then, he lets out a chuckle. "_Oh, you won't._"

With a move that surprises me, he stumps his foot to the ground. At first, nothing happens besides me questioning what the point of it was. But then, to my utter horror, the floor just behind Mercedes opens up and spits out an intense burst of fire. The resulting explosion catches her back and blasts her away.

"Mercedes!"

When she lands, I see the back of her robe singed by whatever that was, along with the back of her hair. The blonde girl tries to lift herself up, but fails and falls unconscious almost right away.

I turn back to the Night Cat. "Bastardo!"

"_Your turn,_" he just says before stomping his foot again.

I move away from where I'm standing and barely manage to escape a blast of my own. But before I can reposition myself to aim a spell, Cheetah stomps his foot again and I have to move again.

This happens a couple more times before I realize fighting from a distance is not an option, draw the sword at my hip and rush him. I know it's a bad idea right away, but I'm not going to wait for this guy to run out of power, if he even can.

As can be expected, my attempt at a swing is easily parried by his axe, and the only thing I accomplish is for the recoil to bounce me back, causing a derisive snort out of him.

"_Right where I wanted you,_" he then hisses.

Without giving me any breathing room, he starts savagely swinging his axe at me, immediately forcing me on the back foot. I try to avoid his swings, but more often than not I am forced to parry in order to not get skewered. And the sheer strength behind each of his blows is enough to make me recoil.

As my parries only serve to wear down my strength, I decide to try a different approach. At the first chance I have, I parry with only one hand holding the hilt and in a looser grip than preferable. Predictably, the sword is pushed out of my hand, but that leaves me the opening to grab Cheetah's with my free one. I grab him and discharge a Thunder through his body, making him howl in pain.

He proves to be surprisingly resistant, though, as where that thug earlier was quick to go down, he manages to stay on his feet. But that doesn't matter. I just need to keep this up until he also goes down.

At least that's the plan until he stomps his foot again, unleashing another blast right next to us.

The left side of my body is instantly in pain as it is the first to be caught by the explosion, a good chunk of my robe getting torn on that part. The right side soon follows as I land on it soon after, but at least it's only temporary. The pain on the left persists. And I fear it may be due to burns.

Cheetah is the first of the two to get back up. Pieces of his armor have come off, and his cloak is now a tethered mess, but he somehow managed to hold onto his axe. His mask has also come off, revealing his telltale white skin, a pair of fully cyan orbs that make for his eyes and a mane of fuchsia hair. And also the savage snarl his face is twisted into.

"Why?" I ask him. Even I don't know what for.

"I lost family because of you," he hisses as he lifts me by the neck of my robe to his eye level. "Do you think your trickery or a Bolganone can compare?"

Without even giving me the time to reply, he raises his axe, ready to deal the killing blow.

...it's strange. For the longest time here, what I wanted was to return home. To see my friends and family again. But now, as my life is about to end, my head isn't thinking about that. It's thinking about all I've tried to do here and all the people I've met. Alois, Catherine, Shamir and Hanneman. Mercedes, Annette and Dimitri. Dedue, Ashe, Ingrid and Petra. Hell, even Lysithea, Felix and Sylvain.

It makes me wonder what they'll think of me once I'm gone. The Blue Lions will probably have a more flattering opinion than I deserve since they'll never know the truth now.

I resign myself to what's about to happen and close my eyes.

But that final strike doesn't come. I wait for a bit, but nothing happens to me. And when I reopen my eyes, I see why.

A long thin blade cuts through Cheetah's armor and impales him from back to front. His face shifted into an expression of pure shock and his breathing became more labored.

"No…" I find myself muttering.

Cheetah looks down at the blade coming out of his body as he starts gurgling up blood and his raised arm shakes. It isn't long from there before his axe falls from nerveless fingers, he loses his grip on me and his whole body becomes slack.

"NO!" I hear Lion shout.

It is only when his corpse is lifted into the air that I notice the Death Knight's silhouette behind him, letting out slow deep breaths. Along with a guttural growl when, with one swift movement of his scythe, he tosses Cheetah off his weapon and next to Lion, who crawls to him and tries to shake him. To no response.

After that, she pulls out some sort of small glass orb from one of her pants' pockets and shatters it. Both her and the body immediately warp away.

"_Hrrrmmm,_" is all the Death Knight has to say after that.

"Emile, wait!" Mercedes, who seems to have regained consciousness at some point, tries to call out to him, hand stretched toward him. All that it gets her is a quick glance from her brother before he slams the pommel of his scythe on the ground and warps away himself.

* * *

[Byleth]

"_Wind!_"

Yet again, the gem on Tigress' sword lets out a burst of air that pushes the two of us apart. Not too much, but enough to be out of each other's reach. She and I then proceed to circle each other again, both of us seeking an opening to exploit. We have been at this for a while at this point. Every time one of us finally attacks, we trade blows for some time before she activates that gem and we start over.

If there is one thing I can give her, it's that she is a far better swordswoman than most. Quick, precise and always moving with purpose. But unfortunately for her, so am I. And this sword I'm wielding - which must be a Hero's Relic, from the looks of it - gives me a rather large advantage over her, as when it glows it has come close to breaking hers more than once.

Of course, all these breaks must mean she knows that as well. And she also has her own tricks up her sleeves. So far, she has used that green gem only for weak Wind Magic, but I was told she can do much more than this. No doubt she's just waiting for the right moment for it.

Thankfully, I haven't had to use the Divine Pulse yet. Should her incoming tricks catch me by surprise, I can rewind time and react accordingly to them.

"_**B-Byleth,**_" Sothis intervenes all of a sudden. "_**I'm feeling...strange.**_"

As soon as she says that, something happens to me too. My vision suddenly becomes blurrier, my body heavier on my legs and my grip on the sword's hilt looser.

What is happening?

"_Finally,_" Tigress says. "_I was wondering when the poison would take effect._"

Poison? When did that happen? All we've done has been swinging swords at each other, and neither of us has managed to actually land a blow y-

Wait...the knife!

"_Do not attempt your Time Magic. You can't control it in this state._"

Even if I could, it is too late to go back to that moment. The Time Pulse's reach is not that far.

Without another word, Tigress comes with a new flurry of slashes that I barely manage to parry. Whether she was holding back before or it's the poison's effect, her attack are now coming much quicker than before, and I find myself struggling to keep up with her now.

Again and again, both swords clash against one another, but this time the strength behind mine is weaker, and Tigress doesn't hesitate to exploit that fact, pushing harder and harder and forcing me on my backfoot.

And then, it happens.

First she motions her sword in a way that suggests she's going to attempt a stab at my shoulder. But when I attempt to parry it, the stab doesn't come. And she instead swings again.

All of a sudden, I can no longer feel anything from my fingers and a sudden shot of pain from my wrist forces me on my knees as I try to suppress a pained cry. And as that happens, I hear the sword clanging as it falls on the floor, followed by something else.

I look at my hand to see just what has been done to it. All I am met by is a bloodied stump.

Before I can further contemplate my now handicapped limb, the tip of Tigress' sword comes near my throat. I look up to see the woman staring down at me through her mask.

"_You are beaten,_" she hisses. "_It would take nothing for me to end you right now._"

"...but you are not going to." I manage to wheeze out through the pain. Why else would she take the bother of making that observation otherwise?

Tigress lets out a sigh. "_No. But I'll leave you with a warning. We need your patron's collaboration only for so long still. If the next time we meet you still stand with the Fell Star, you _will _die._"

Patron? What patron?

Tigress pummels me in the forehead before I can ask that aloud. Before I pass out, I am able to see her grab the Hero Relic and hear her order a retreat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was the double update. We meet some new allies of the Night Cats' and people get messed up on both sides. What can I say besides you're welcome? :)
> 
> This is a part of Eugenio's development I hope makes sense. Up until now he's tried to keep it together at killing people. Once it was a quick kill he did out of anger, another was an accident and the others he wasn't the one actually doing the killing. But when faced with inflicting a painful execution on someone, even someone he despises so much, he couldn't do it. Was that done well? I'll leave it to you to judge.
> 
> A huge thank you to Softandhappy for betareading this one. Come join us all at the TreeHouse Discord server, code: 9XG3U7a
> 
> See you guys next time!


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